One night, the moths gathered, tormented by the desire to unite themselves with the candle. They all said: “We must find someone who can bring us news of the object of our amorous quest.” A moth went as far as a distant castle, and within it he caught sight of the candle’s light. He returned and reported what he had seen; he set about describing the candle according to the measure of his understanding. But the wise moth who presided over the gathering declared that the exploring moth knew nothing of the candle. Another moth went to pass near the light and drew close to it. He touched the flame with his wings; the candle was victorious, and he was vanquished. He too returned, and revealed something of the mystery in question. He explained a little what union with the candle consisted in; but the wise moth said to him: “Your explanation is no more exact than that given by your companion.”
A third moth rose, drunk with love; it went and hurled itself violently at the flame of the candle: propelled by its hind legs, it stretched its forelegs towards the flame at the same time. It lost itself and joyfully became one with it; it was wholly consumed, and its limbs turned red as fire. When the wise moth, leader of the assembly, saw from afar that the candle had made the insect one with itself and given it the same appearance, he said: “The moth has learned what it wished to know; but he alone understands it, and that is all.”
He, indeed, who has neither trace nor sign of his existence truly knows more than others concerning annihilation. Until you have forgotten your body and your soul, will you ever know the object of your love? He who has given you the slightest hint of the matter thereby plunges your soul deep in blood; but since even breath is not admitted here, no one, all the more, can be admitted.
He, indeed, who has neither trace nor sign of his existence truly knows more than others concerning annihilation. Until you have forgotten your body and your soul, will you ever know the object of your love? He who has given you the slightest hint of the matter thereby plunges your soul deep in blood; but since even breath is not admitted here, no one, all the more, can be admitted.
If thou wouldst attain this station, thou wilt reach it with difficulty so long as thou art even but a hair. Cast into the fire all that thou hast, down to thy shoe. When thou hast nothing left, think not even of thy shroud, but cast thyself naked into the fire. When thou hast thus been reduced to ashes, together with thy baggage, thou wilt have no least sense of thine existence; but if there remained to thee only, as to Jesus, a simple needle, know that thou wouldst still have a hundred thieves awaiting thee on thy way. Although Jesus had cast his baggage upon the road, his needle could still tear his face. When existence vanishes, riches and empire, honour and dignities are of no avail. Leave, then, all that thou possessest, and withdraw into solitude. When thine inward self (darôn) is gathered up in renunciation, thou wilt then be beyond (birôn) good and evil.
When there is neither good nor evil left for thee, thou wilt truly love, and at last thou wilt be worthy of annihilation, the fruit of love.