A sufi was on the path of clarity. Every day he walked
 the desert, and every night
he walked and slept in the emptiness of God’s custody.
 One night he came upon
a merchant’s tent and felt the need for conversation. He
 lifted the tent flap
and saw a black slave in chains, unable to move, but shining
 with intelligence like
the moon. „Help me”, the slave whispered. „My master will
 not refuse the guest. Ask
him to set me free”. The merchant welcomed the sufi
 to his tent and brought
food. „I cannot accept your generosity until you release
 this poor man”. „I will.
But first listen to what I have suffered because of him!
 I used to have many purebred
camels, beautiful animals with humps like mountains, swift
 as the wind over steep
and flat, powerful as rhinoceri, tall and dignified as
 elephants. Their crossing
and recrossing this desolation were the source of my
 existence, their bells my most
wished-for sound. As they traveled, this camel driver sang
 songs. The camels heard
and carried their loads with courage and discipline. This time,
 though, when we unloaded
them, they fled in every direction, vanished in the desert,
 all but the one still
tied outside my tent”. The sufi said. „Let me hear the camel driver’s song”. The master
gestured, and the slave began. The visitor sat politely
 watching the tethered animal,
but as longing deepened in the song, the night walker
 tore his clothes and fell
on the ground, while the last camel snapped its rope and
 escaped into the darkness.

 Dżalal ad-Din ar-Rumi „Jami’s the camel driver’s song”