The poet feels undeserving of a precious gift and expresses a desire for deeper faith and understanding.
A silent song to fit the unfit times
Ah! I am myself throwing mud in the head
Where shall my soul find its bread?
I cried much for my mentors’ reach
I waited long on Destiny’s beach…
Before meeting the Beloved
Even then keep care as every step you advance/For you are where even wind is polite as it blows
Stars on the way to Harem
They burn their own selves
Hence, light at night is seen by His Slaves
Tonight we are heading as guests
Towards that Blessed House…