Rumi and I (cuz we’re a team in case you didn’t know) like to use dance as a metaphor for That which is Greatest. The quote says it all, but the poem really puts our illusions and distractions in their place:
My love wanders the rooms, melodious,
flute notes, plucked wires,
full of a wine the Magi drank
on the way to Bethlehem.
We are three. The moon comes
from its quiet corner, puts a pitcher of water
down in the center. The circle
of surface flames.
One of us kneels to kiss the threshold.
One drinks, with wine-flames playing over his face.
One watches the gathering,
and says to any cold onlookers,
This dance is the joy of existence.
I am filled with you.
Skin, blood, bone, brain and soul.
There’s no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.