The Soliloquy Of The Sajda Nashin: A Poem Poem by Sumita Jetley

In a chamber dim, where relics rest,
Sits Farid, guardian of the blessed.
Oil lamps flicker, incense swirls,
In this sacred space where mystic unfurls.

'Ah, garments and strands, you're more than you seem,
You touch countless souls, you're a heavenly dream.
But what am I here, in this sanctified space?
A guardian? A vessel? Or a seeker of grace? '

He opens a book, where saints' words reside,
'Speak of love and unity, ' to himself he confides.
'But here I am still, with my ego in tow,
A prisoner of wants, in this spiritual glow.'

Pilgrims will come, their hearts full of need,
'Can I give them answers, can I plant the seed?
I can show the path, but can't make them walk,
It's a journey of soul, not mere idle talk.'

He stands by the vial, a strand finely spun,
'A part of a saint, a part of the One.
Do you hold the secret, the key to the sky?
Or a reminder that the path is both low and high? '

The lamp by the vial gives a flicker, a sign,
Farid smiles, 'Ah, Divine speaks in design.
I may not know all, but faith is my guide,
In relics, in path, in this spiritual ride.'

So in the chamber sacred, where relics lay,
Farid keeps his vigil, night and day.
Not just a guardian, but a seeker so fine,
Forever in dialogue, with the unseen Divine.