This is love: 

to fly toward a secret sky, 

to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. 

First, to let go of life. 

In the end, to take a step without feet; 

to regard this world as invisible, 

and to disregard what appears to be the self. 

Heart, I said, what a gift it has been 

to enter this circle of lovers, 

to see beyond seeing itself, 

to reach and feel within the breast.

Rumi