Homebound

What am I immersed in, I myself do not know,

Its pull is strong like the river current that knows not how to halt.

Alone with the wind and sweet cawing of a crow,

I look for quiet places to understand the breeze from the flow,

Nature’s gentle, mysterious flow, its rhythm, both vehement and mellow.

It’s the swirling quietness that I am drawn to, like a homebound bug,

Its tiny legs, undeterred, marching to the beats of an invisible drum.

The Song of the Sufi Masroof