The madman

It was in the garden of a madhouse that I met a youth with a face pale and lovely and full of wonder. And I sat beside him upon the bench, and I said, “Why are you here?”

And he looked at me in astonishment, and he said, “It is an unseemly question, yet I will answer you. My father would make of me a reproduction of himself; so also would my uncle. My mother would have me the image of her seafaring husband as the perfect example for me to follow. My brother thinks I should be like him, a fine athlete.

“And my teachers also, the doctor of philosophy, and the music-master, and the logician, they too were determined, and each would have me but a reflection of his own face in a mirror.

“Therefore I came to this place. I find it more sane here. At least, I can be myself.”

Then of a sudden he turned to me and he said, “But tell me, were you also driven to this place by education and good counsel?”

And I answered, “No, I am a visitor.”

And he answered, “Oh, you are one of those who live in the madhouse on the other side of the wall.”

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

Builders of bridges

In Antioch where the river Assi goes to meet the sea, a bridge was built to bring one half of the city nearer to the other half. It was built of large stones carried down from among the hills, on the backs of the mules of Antioch.

When the bridge was finished, upon a pilar thereof was engraved in Greek and in Aramaic, “This bridge was built by King Antiochus II.”

And all the people walked across the good bridge over the goodly river Assi.

And upon an evening, a youth deemed by some a little mad, descended to the pillar where the words were engraven, and he covered over the graving with charcoal, and above it wrote, “The stones of this bridge were brought down from the hills by the mules. In passing to and fro over it you are riding upon the backs of the mules of Antioch, builders of this bridge.”

And when the people read what the youth had written, some of them laughed and some marveled. And some said, “Ah yes, we know who has done this. Is he not a little mad?”

But one mule said, laughing, to another mule, “Do you not remember that we did carry those stones? And yet until now it has been said that the bridge was builded by King Antiochus.”

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

The love song

A poet once wrote a love song and it was beautiful. And he made many copies of it, and sent them to his friends and his acquaintances, both men and women, and even to a young woman whom he had met but once, who lived beyond the mountains.

And in a day or two a messenger came from the young woman bringing a letter. And in the letter she said, “Let me assure you, I am deeply touched by the love song that you have written to me. Come now, and see my father and my mother, and we shall make arrangements for the betrothal.”

And the poet answered the letter, and he said to her, “My friend, it was but a song of love out of a poet's heart, sung by every man to every woman.”

And she wrote again to him saying, “Hypocrite and liar in words! From this day unto my coffin-day I shall hate all poets for your sake.”

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

At the fair

There came to the Fair a girl from the country-side, most comely. There was a lily and a rose in her face. There was a sunset in her hair, and dawn smiled upon her lips.
No sooner did the lovely stranger appear in their sight than the young men sought her and surrounded her. One would dance with her, and another would cut a cake in her honor. And they all desired to kiss her cheek. For after all, was it not the Fair?
But the girl was shocked and started, and she thought ill of the young men. She rebuked them, and she even struck one or two of them in the face. Then she ran away from them.
And on her way home that evening she was saying in her heart, “I am disgusted. How unmannerly and ill bred are these men. It is beyond all patience.”

A year passed during which that very comely girl thought much of Fairs and men. Then she came again to the Fair with the lily and the rose in her face, the sunset in her hair and the smile of dawn upon her lips.
But now the young men, seeing her, turned from her. And all the day long she was unsought and alone.
And at eventide as she walked the road toward her home she cried in her heart, “I am disgusted. How unmannerly and ill bred are these youths. It is beyond all patience.”

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

Awake if you can

“Jaise Til Mein Tel Hai, Jyon Chakmak Mein Aag
Tera Sayeen Tujh Mein Hai, Tu Jaag Sake To Jaag”

Just as seed contains the oil, fire's in flint stone
Your temple seats the Divine, realize if you can