To me, this poem of Rumi illustrates two things: firstly, that the real Saints or Masters are the door to the Ocean of Intoxication, and secondly, that service of others is the highest act.

Here is another lovely poem by Rabindranath Tagore:

There is a lovely poem which I once heard from my Master, Kirpal (1894-1974) when Maulana Rumi spoke to disciples of his impending death.

When I die, take my body and cut it into pieces;

Spread it as manure on the field.

In that field, plant grain, and when ripe, gather it;

Then grind into flour, and bake it into bread;

Not those who eat that bread,

But those who serve it,

Shall have divine intoxication!

God one day said to Moses in secret: ‘Go and get a word of advice from Satan.’

So Moses went to visit Iblis and when he came to him and asked for a word of advice,
‘Always remember,’ said Iblis, ‘this simple axiom: never say “I,” so that you never may become like me.’

So long as there remains in you a little of self-love you will partake of infidelity.
Indolence is a barrier to the spiritual way; but if you succeed in crossing this barrier, a hundred ‘I’s will break their heads in a moment.
Everyone sees your vanity and self-pride, your resentment, envy, and anger, but you yourself do not see them.
There is a corner of your being full of dragons and by negligence you are delivered up to them;
and you pet them and cherish them night and day. So, if you are aware of your inner state, why do you remain so listless!

—Farid ud-Din Attar, The Conference of the Birds, 1974 (London), Routledge & Keegan Paul Ltd., pp. 87.