91:7-8 By the soul and that which proportioned it and inspired it with its depravity and godwariness.

The poor Adamite who does not recognize his own exaltedness and eminence! Of this dust-dwelling frame he finds his way only to a name, a body, a trace. He does not know what is the secret of And We honored the children of Adam [17:70], what is the wisdom of And He created you in stages [71:14], what is the explication of in the most beautiful stature [95:4], or what is the face-to-face vision in And He formed you, so He made your forms beautiful [40:64].

O chevalier! Of the human makeup and the Adamic individual, first think about the form! What artisanry the Lord of the worlds has shown with a drop of spilled water! What diverse paintings have been achieved through “Be!”, so it comes to be [2:117]! Mutually similar limbs, opposites like unto each other—each one He has made in its own scale. He has adorned each limb with one sort of beauty, not more than its limit, not less than its measure. To each He gave an attribute, and in each He placed a strength: senses in the brain, splendor on the forehead, beauty in the nose, sorcery in the eye, sauciness on the lips, comeliness in the cheek, perfect loveliness in the hair. It is not apparent whether the artisanries in the natures are more beautiful, or if the governance in the form-giving is sweeter. He has created so many marvels and wonders from a drop of water! The intelligent man gazes on His artisanry, but the heedless man is asleep.

Once you have looked with the outward eye on the marks giving witness to His power, look also with the inward eye on the subtleties of His wisdom. Then you will see the proofs of love and the traces of solicitude. The mortal nature is the world of form, but the heart is the world of the attributes. The mortal nature is the heart’s shell, but the heart is the shell of the center point that is the secret core. It is such that the orbs and bodies of the cosmos are bewildered by the form of the Adamic nature, the Adamic nature is bewildered by the form of the heart, the heart is bewildered by the center point of the secret core, and the secret core stays on the borderline between annihilation and subsistence. Sometimes it is in the courtyard of annihilation, sometimes in the robe of subsistence. When in annihilation, it is nothing but burning and need, and when in subsistence, it is all caresses and mysteries. When in annihilation it says, “Who is more miserable than I?”, and when in subsistence, “Who is greater than I?”

When my gaze falls on my own clay,

I see nothing worse in the world.

When I pass beyond my attributes,

I look at myself from the Throne.