Life of a Lonesome Bedouin and his Companion Hamza

I am merely a lonesome bedouin, clinging on to not this world,
But onto the Word, onto the next life,
Reminding asceticism is not lack of materialism,
According to Shia-ism I am Sunni,
According to Sunn-ism I am neither Salafi or Wahabi,
To some, I am Sufi,
Sunrises I walk,
Poison of the heart does no stem from having money,

Along this journey, I transformed into a prince,
Became a king, found my Queen,
Gave birth to daughters and sons,
According to some, I lived blessed from God’s bounties,
Across roads and stretches of palm-trees,
Measuring distance my veins,

From afar cries a man,
Only his blanket covers his feet,
All he has shields him from cold,
Amongst strangers he asked advice,
Asked the traveler to pass word to the King,
In response the King told the stranded Man,
‘Remove the Dunya from your heart’…

Within seconds, after minutes, in-between sacrifice suffered scars,
Don’t confuse my desire to walk in-between worldly desire and the here-after,
It is not this life that dictates my instinct,
Whether I obtain wealth, fame, or fortune; it cannot enter my heart,
Compared to fasting for weeks,
Carrying one blanket out of choice,
This Old Man carried wants and needs,
His palms became sweaty at the sight of five senses,
When he smelled beauty, his eyes visualized wealth,

I am merely a lonesome bedouin, clinging on to not this world,
But onto the Word, onto the next life,
As there is no darkness in moonlit night,
So is Mustafa, the well-wisher,
Without doubt his heart pure,
Purity of light,
Cradled the night within a man’s fight against cruelty,

Speak not without understanding I walk bare-foot,
Understand without autumn leaves I am barren,
Without helping hands we are empty frames,
As I traveled across ocean waves balancing ego,
Cradled the world as my feet played hopscotch across my chest,

This ascetic ran into contact with ascension,
Tension released after vengeance,
As my back wavered, each flag suggested friendship,
My pen witnessed foreign travelers,
Within my last sincere years, I requested dying friendship,

This lonesome traveler sat amongst my fire,
Surrounded by lions and lion-hearts,
Known too few sat silently Hamza,
His derivative became my silent partner,
Hamuza meaning strong or steadfast,

As I wondered within cities,
Few travelers stayed,
Many lingered and left astray,
This particular traveler stayed,
Never left only pondered, questioned, or reminded,
His perseverance, courage, and sincerity out-shined the rest,

Most Bedouins don’t have friends,
I awoke one morning carrying my brother’s hand,
Not born together like the rest,
Only brought together like few,
We had become connected by Deen,

Two generals, two wanderers,
Fighting alongside each other,
This Bedouin came into the world with one,
Asked to be buried next to only one,
Time has come,
For this Bedouin to put down his pen…


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