Once, a dervish, full of piety and grace,
In the desert, he wandered, searching for a place.
With faith in his heart, though starving and lost,
He walked down an old pathway, no matter the cost.
He found an empty sack, a fruit sack, you see,
Left by a passerby, beside the tree.
He swung it on his shoulder, his faith never shook,
And loudly he prayed, "An empty sack for a cook!"
Further on his journey, a hunting bow he'd find,
With a string all broken, not much of a kind.
He placed it in his sack, his voice filled with glee,
"Thank God for a bow, broken, it may be."
A dead tree stood before him, no fruit did it bear,
He broke some dry branches with utmost care.
Into the sack, they went, with a grateful cheer,
"Thank God for a dead tree, it's sustenance near."
An old pot he discovered, all dented and worn,
With dust on its surface, slightly forlorn.
He wiped off the grime, his trust in God's hand,
"Thank God for a pot, in this barren land."
A fishing hook, alone, without a fishing pole,
He found on the ground, as part of his stroll.
Into the sack it went, his faith unwavering and whole,
"Thank God for a hook, it's a part of my goal."
After days of wandering, his path met a river,
So vast, he couldn't see where it would deliver.
He knelt by the bank, with his voice, he'd shiver,
"Thank God for a river, this gift from the Giver."
He tied the hook to the bow's broken string, oh so neat,
With faith as his guide, he won't face defeat.
He caught a fish, cooked in the old pot's retreat,
The branches he used for fire,
As he looked into flames ire
In the desert, he dined,
His fate redefined .