M1:140 — گفتم ار عریان شود او در عیان / نه تو مانی نه کنارت نه میان

Translation: I said, 'If He were to reveal Himself nakedly in plain sight, / Neither you would remain, nor your side, nor your middle.' Meaning: Mowlana responds to his soul's insistence, explaining that should the absolute Truth manifest unveiled and without reserve, the seeker's entire existence, along with all its attributes and distinctions, would be utterly annihilated.

This verse represents my (Mowlana's) firm and wise response to my own soul's insistence on an unmediated, naked encounter with the Beloved. My soul, in this context, acts as an impatient lover, demanding the removal of all final veils—much as I express elsewhere: 'I cannot fit with the idol in a shirt.' This means I cannot abide with the Beloved when there are coverings and veils; I wish to be free of all such impediments, to achieve unreserved and unadorned union. This profound desire has a long history in our mystical tradition. Sa'di, in a passionate ghazal, also expresses this sentiment: 'Between us and you, nothing but a shirt will remain; / And if it becomes a veil, I will tear it to its hem.' This 'shirt' symbolizes the ultimate barrier between lover and Beloved. Indeed, as recorded in Manaqib al-ʿArifin, during my own final moments, I told Sadr al-Din Qunawi: 'Between me and the Beloved, only a shirt remains.' This 'shirt' is the veil of earthly existence, the corporeal covering, whose tearing signifies complete union. From this perspective, death is not an end but a 'beginning' of union, the lifting of the final veil. Yet, in this verse, with the seasoned wisdom of an ʿarif, I caution my restless soul. I say: 'I said, If He were to reveal Himself nakedly in plain sight, / Neither you would remain, nor your side, nor your middle.' This 'He' refers to the absolute Beloved, and 'nakedly in plain sight' signifies an unadorned, direct, unmediated manifestation. My response is stark and unequivocal: if that boundless, radiant Truth were to manifest without veils, not only would 'you' (the individual self of the seeker, with its distinct identity) cease to exist, but also 'your side' (the outer boundaries of your being) and 'your middle' (your inner identity and perceptive limits) would all be utterly annihilated. This annihilation is not the encouraging fanāʾ sought at the outset of the path, but a complete erasure that obliterates even the capacity for perception and presence. This wisdom is further emphasized by me elsewhere: 'Desire, but desire with measure; / A mountain cannot bear a single blade of straw.' Even a mountain, in all its grandeur, cannot bear the weight of a single blade of straw, let alone the manifestation of infinite Majesty. Or: 'The sun that lit this world, / If it shone a little more, would burn everything.' If the sun, itself but a faint reflection of that Truth, were to shine with slightly greater intensity, it would incinerate the world. Thus, the full, unveiled manifestation of that Truth would result in nothing but the absolute annihilation of all that is not Him. This perspective has deep roots in our mystical philosophy. Khayyam beautifully articulates it: 'Secrets of eternity neither you nor I know, / Nor this knotty script can you or I read; / There is talk of you and me from behind the veil; / When the veil falls, neither you nor I remain.' Our very existence, therefore, depends on these veils and coverings. These veils are boundaries that enable the possibility of a variegated existence and a relationship with the absolute Truth. If these veils were to fall, neither 'you' nor 'I' would remain to perceive this Truth. Therefore, the preservation of these veils is not a sign of concealment or distance, but a condition for the continuation of being and relationship. It is for this reason that the Masnavi, itself a manifestation of my spirit, chooses the language of ḥikāyat (narration) and رمز (symbolism). I cannot present the Truth 'nakedly in plain sight' to you, because 'you yourself listen within the narratives.' Profound truths must be conveyed in the guise of parable and story, so that the audience, gradually and according to their capacity, may comprehend it without being annihilated. This narrative language is a way of 'contacting the Beloved from behind a veil'; a veiled contact that ensures the seeker's survival and allows for a gradual lifting of the veils. Within the broader context of the narrative, this verse appears where my soul, after mentioning 'Shams-e Tabrizi' and recalling the passionate companionship with him, requests: 'Recount a secret of those joyful states.' My soul wishes me to unveil the secrets and experiences with Shams. But I respond with this verse and subsequent ones, saying: 'Seek not strife, chaos, and bloodshed; / Speak no more of Shams-e Tabrizi.' This is not only a warning about the absolute manifestation of Truth but also a reminder of the dire consequences of indiscriminately revealing secrets pertaining to Shams and his intense experiences. Shams himself was an instance of 'intense manifestation,' whose presence created 'strife and chaos.' Thus, this verse, on two levels, emphasizes the importance of maintaining veils and boundaries in encountering infinite truths and influential figures.

Key takeaways

• The unveiled manifestation of absolute Truth leads to the seeker's complete annihilation.
• Veils and boundaries are conditions for the existence of diverse beings and the gradual perception of Truth.
• Divine wisdom dictates that Truth be expressed proportionately to the seeker's capacity, through symbolism and narrative.
• The desire for union must be accompanied by 'measure'; a naked demand is synonymous with annihilation.
• The Masnavi, through its narrative language, provides a means of 'contacting the Beloved from behind a veil.'
• The direct articulation of certain truths can be like a 'fierce sun,' yielding nothing but incineration.