The weaver

He picked up threads of various hues, red, green, and blue .

As he wove his words poured out

from his mouth,

into the fabric.

His words were sung, 

they got hung,

on the fabric of Love and devotion.

He yearned not for wealth,

nor for health,

but only for his passion 

to mankind, a lesson.

Each word a pearl, 

strung into a couplet 

of the wisdom of life

to fight strife. 

Singing for Almighty,

living in piety 

embracing humanity 

yearning for Divinity.

He was none other than 

Saint Kabir.