this is the other gold

This is the other gold
that glows in your chest when you love.

The enchanted mosque is in there, and the pointed cry is a candleflame on the altar.
The young man is a moth who gambles himself and wins. A True Human Being is not human!
This candle does not burn. 
             It illuminates.

Some candles burn themselves, and one another, up.
Others taste like a surprise of roses in a room,
and you just a stranger who wandered in.
-- Rumi