Sufi Punjabi Kalam by a Punjab Villager

In the rustic embrace of Punjab's villages,
A soulful tale unfolds, sung in mystic leagues.
A villager, a weaver of Sufi verses,
With a heart attuned to mystical universes.

Amidst the fields of golden wheat,
Where the earth and sky sweetly meet,
Lives a bard with a weathered face,
Whose voice echoes in the sacred space.

In the quietude of the village square,
His Sufi Punjabi Kalam fills the air.
Words that transcend the mortal coil,
A melody woven in the soil.

He sings of love, of divine connection,
A humble soul, devoid of pretension.
His verses dance with spiritual fire,
Igniting hearts, lifting them higher.

Underneath the ancient banyan tree,
He sits, sharing tales of eternity.
His eyes hold stories of ancient lore,
A conduit of wisdom from days of yore.

The harmonium hums, the tabla beats,
As the village listens, in the quiet streets.
His Kalam, a river of devotion,
Flows through hearts, an endless ocean.

In each note, a prayer takes flight,
A journey through the mystical night.
The villager's voice, a vessel pure,
Carries the Sufi essence, rich and sure.

His verses echo in the rippling stream,
A Sufi's vision, like a waking dream.
In the heart of Punjab, the villager sings,
A bard, whose Kalam, to the soul, clings.