For forty years, every night and day 

The devout sufi would stand and pray 

Known in the town as Allah's greatest slave 

The verses of the book, in his memory engraved 

“Oh tell us Shiekh, how do you make the time?” 

"It is Allah's will I pray, not mine" 

"Why do disasters not fall into your path 

and make you late for prayers?”, they asked

“Does sleep not hold you until the sun has risen 

Should we give more to charity from what we've been given?

You are so blessed, please tell us Shiekh 

How we could live like you, for Allah's sake?" 

He replied

“My time to pray is time that I've been granted 

My life for our Lord, and I am enchanted

If Allah commands me to come and stand 

Who am I to say no, a mere mortal man 

Everything I have is from his hand 

But please no more talk of my devotion to our Lord 

Let us stand and recite to the one who must be adored”

After the prayers the Slave would request 

To be left alone in the mosque as Allah's guest 

The mosque grew empty, there was no more crowd 

Silence, Nothingness! The slave began to pray out loud 

Just as he started, a movement from the door behind 

Who stares at me? Asked his curious mind 

The slightest distraction from his prayer 

Now, let me show them how much I care 

To show my devotion (and for my lord) 

The verse of The Cow recited in perfect chord 

Every detail, every nuance was perfectly read 

And vanity grew inside the slave’s head 

Exhausted, but pleased his prayers came to a finish 

He turned to see, and his heart diminished 

The shame overtook him, his face was blushed 

Almost sick, his soul rebelled in disgust 

Allah had exposed him he faith had been flogged 

For the Sheikh was worshipping the watchful dog