Your riches are untold,
Night and day, it rains from the sky,
Like fallen leaves, cluttering my yard,
Floating in, through the narrow drain of my heart,
Making me rich, wealthy beyond words,
And still, look at the smallness of my being,
I strive every day, with every ounce to hoard, the remaining fruits
on the tree.
How can I not know what’s being given to me?
How can I not see that’s it’s raining especially for me?
I’m rich beyond riches, because He’s willed it to me. |
| The Song of the Sufi Masroof |
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