Zain, The Story Of A Sufi Poem by Sumita Jetley

In a city of steel and neon light,
Where shadows dance through endless night,
Lives a dervish, quiet and still,
Named Zain, with a heart of iron will.

He walks through streets both old and new,
In sneakers worn and paint-streaked too,
A modern man, yet timeless soul,
Whose spirit seeks the sacred whole.

By day he codes in a tech-lit room,
But as the dusk dissolves the gloom,
He slips away to a place unknown,
Where fire burns, and thoughts are sown.

An old warehouse, abandoned, cold,
Graffiti bright, yet stories old,
Here Zain builds a fire small,
A flickering light that casts its thrall.

He circles ‘round with careful grace,
The flames reflect on his serene face,
Eyes closed, yet open wide,
To the inner world where truths reside.

A stick he lifts from the fiery core,
Holding it close, wanting more,
The flames caress his skin with care,
Yet pain and fear find no place there.

For this is not a fire of harm,
But one that heals with sacred charm,
It burns away what's false, untrue,
Leaving only the light that's pure, that's new.

His colleagues wonder, never know,
The secret paths where Zain will go,
Through urban jungles, concrete, grime,
To find a place where souls align.

In each small act, in each small thing,
Zain finds the spark that makes him sing,
A diner's fry, a dawn-lit track,
The fire within that never lacks.

For Zain, the world's a living prayer,
A place where spirit meets the air,
Where old and new, where night and day,
In silent dance, together sway.

He walks the flames, a path so bright,
In the city's heart, in the deep of night,
A dervish, modern, odd, and free,
Whose soul is fire, eternally.