Fakir Walks Away Poem by Sumita Jetley

In Lahore's heart, where whispers of faith start,
At Baba Ganj Baksh Sarkar, a sacred art,
A Sufi dervish, in meditation's deep embrace,
In the Darbar's arms, finds his peaceful place.

Eyes closed, in divine communion, he rests,
Amidst the worldly, his spirit quests.
Visitors come and go, a ceaseless flow,
Yet, in his heart, a celestial glow.

Asif, a seeker, in the crowd, a silent note,
Watches the dervish, his thoughts afloat.
In the dervish's presence, he feels the truth's weight,
A journey of souls, led by mystic fate.

As shadows lengthen, and the crowd thins,
A sacred moment, as the evening begins.
The dervish stirs, his eyes meet Asif's gaze,
In that look, a thousand unsaid phrases.

From his side, a begging bowl, simple and bare,
An offering's vessel, handled with care.
To Asif, he extends this humble request,
A silent plea, in faithfulness dressed.

Asif responds, his heart open wide,
Places an amulet, his family's pride.
In the bowl, it lays, a symbol, a token,
Of a bond unbroken, and words unspoken.

The dervish nods, in gratitude, he meditates again,
Around them, an aura, like after spring rain.
In the Darbar's embrace, under the evening's star,
They sit, two souls, neither near nor far.

In that serene courtyard, a moment so rare,
Speaks of the universe's mysterious care.
Beneath Baba Ganj Baksh's watchful eye,
The dervish and Asif, beneath the twilight sky.

A testament to faith's unyielding power,
In the Darbar's shadow, at the twilight hour.
A connection beyond the tangible, beyond sight,
In Lahore's heart, under the fading light.