"Patience, Sabr !"
An Oasis stood out In the vast stretches
Of deserted desert.
Lost, astray, broken follower followed the fresh trail
Marked by the animal's hooves In the loose sands of flinching faith.
Each skittery step exhaled a puff of breath
From the Arab's parched mouth.
A caravan of such men skirted
The trail till those wandering eyes
Led them to a far-off oasis,
Sabr, implored he,
To the brewing sandstorm within him.
Thirty days of the holy month
Taught him the meaning of the word,
For thirty years, a recall.
Oasis, those blue eyes searched for.
Tired, lowered, rising, moving,
For His soothing voice had called out..