A Tale

A pious scholar passed a drunk sprawled on the ground, and grew proud of his own virtue and restraint. In his arrogance he did not spare the man a glance. The young drunk raised his head and said: 'Old man, go and give thanks that you knock at the door of blessings, for deprivation is what comes of self-conceit. Do not laugh at someone you see caught in a trap; you too might suddenly stumble into one. After all, is it not within the power of fate that tomorrow you could lie drunk like me? Heaven wrote your destiny toward the mosque; do not mock another whose lot fell in the temple. So, Muslim, join your hands in gratitude that the fire-worshipper's belt was never tied around you. No one who seeks Him walks there on their own; the Friend's grace drags them along by force. See where fate has led things: whoever leaned on anyone but God was blind indeed.'