Song of the Flower

I am a kind word uttered and repeated 

By the voice of Nature; 
I am a star fallen from the 
Blue tent upon the green carpet. 
I am the daughter of the elements 
With whom Winter conceived; 
To whom Spring gave birth; I was 
Reared in the lap of Summer and I 
Slept in the bed of Autumn. 

At dawn I unite with the breeze 
To announce the coming of light; 
At eventide I join the birds 
In bidding the light farewell. 

The plains are decorated with 
My beautiful colors, and the air 
Is scented with my fragrance. 

As I embrace Slumber the eyes of 
Night watch over me, and as I 
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is 
The only eye of the day. 

I drink dew for wine, and hearken to 
The voices of the birds, and dance 
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass. 

I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath; 
I am the memory of a moment of happiness; 
I am the last gift of the living to the dead; 
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow. 


But I look up high to see only the light, 
And never look down to see my shadow. 
This is wisdom which man must learn

A traveller

Lust for comfort

When you speak

Beauty not in face

"Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart." ~ Kahlil Gibran

Earth is like a beautiful bride

"The earth is like a beautiful bride who needs no man-made jewels to heighten her loveliness but is content with the green verture of her fields, the golden sands of her seashores and the precious stones of her mountains." ~ Kahlil Gibran

Comfort murders

"Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

Love and doubt

"Love and doubt have never been on speaking terms." ~ Khalil Gibran

Rights of others

"Safeguarding the rights of others is the most noble and beautiful end of a human being." ~ Khalil Gibran

Deep and strong and strange

Here I sit between my brother the mountain and my sister the sea. We three are one in loneliness, and the love that binds us together is deep and strong and strange. Nay, it is deeper than my sister's depth and stronger than my brother's strength, and stranger than the strangeness of my madness.

Excerpted from "The Madman" by Kahlil Gibran

The path

There lived among the hills a woman and her son, and he was her first-born and her only child.

And the boy died of a fever whilst the physician stood by.

The mother was distraught with sorrow, and she cried to the physician and besought him saying, “Tell me, tell me, what was it that made quiet his striving and silent his song?”

And the physician said, “It was the fever.”

And the mother said, “What is the fever?”

And the physician answered, “I cannot explain it. It is a thing infinitely small that visits the body, and we cannot see it with the human eye.”

The physician left her. And she kept repeating to herself, “Something infinitely small. We cannot see it with our human eye.”

And at evening the priest came to console her. And she wept and she cried out saying, “Oh, why have I lost my son, my only son, my first-born?”

And the priest answered, “My child, it is the will of God.”

And the woman said, “What is God and where is God? I would see God that I may tear my bosom before Him, and pour the blood of my heart at His feet. Tell me where I shall find Him.”

And the priest said, “”God is infinitely vast. He is not to be seen with our human eye.”

Then the woman cried out, “The infinitely small has slain my son through the will of the infinitely great! Then what are we? What are we?”

At that moment the woman’s mother came into the room with the shroud for the dead boy, and she heard the words of the priest and also her daughter’s cry. And she laid down the shroud, and took her daughter’s hand in her own hand, and she said, “My daughter, we ourselves are the infinitely small and the infinitely great; and we are the path between the two.”

The quest

A thousand years ago two philosophers met on a slope of Lebanon, and one said to the other, “Where goest thou?”


And the other answered, “I am seeking after the fountain of youth which I know wells out among these hills. I have found writings which tell of that fountain flowering toward the sun. And you, what are you seeking?”

The first man answered, “I am seeking after the mystery of death.”

Then each of the two philosophers conceived that the other was lacking in his great science, and they began to wrangle, and to accuse each other of spiritual blindness.

Now while the two philosophers were loud upon the wind, a stranger, a man who was deemed a simpleton in his own village, passed by, and when he heard the two in hot dispute, he stood awhile and listened to their argument.

Then he came near to them and said, “My good men, it seems that you both really belong to the same school of philosophy, and that you are speaking of the same thing, only you speak in different words. One of you is seeks the fountain of youth, and the other seeks the mystery of death. Yet indeed they are but one, and as they dwell in you both.”

Then the stranger turned away saying, “Farewell sages.” And as he departed he laughed a patient laughter.

The two philosophers looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then they laughed also. And one of them said, “Well now, shall we not walk and seek together.”

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

The two poems

Many centuries ago, on a road to Athens, two poets met, and they were glad to see one another.

And one poet asked the other saying, “What have you composed of late, and how goes it with your lyre?”

And the other poet answered and said with pride, “I have but now finished the greatest of my poems, perchance the greatest poem yet written in Greek. It is an invocation to Zeus the Supreme.”

Then he took from beneath his cloak a parchment, saying, “Here, behold, I have it with me, and I would fain read it to you. Come, let us sit in the shade of that white cypress.”

And the poet read his poem. And it was a long poem.

And the other poet said in kindliness, “This is a great poem. It will live through the ages, and in it you shall be glorified.”

And the first poet said calmly, “And what have you been writing these late days?”

And the other another, “I have written but little. Only eight lines in remembrance of a child playing in a garden.” And he recited the lines.

The first poet said, “Not so bad; not so bad.”

And they parted.

And now after two thousand years the eight lines of the one poet are read in every tongue, and are loved and cherished.

And though the other poem has indeed come down through the ages in libraries and in the cells of scholars, and though it is remembered, it is neither loved nor read.

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

The old, old wine

Once there lived a rich man who was justly proud of his cellar and the wine therein. And there was one jug of ancient vintage kept for some occasion known only to himself.

The governor of the state visited him, and he bethought him and said, “That jug shall not be opened for a mere governor.”

And a bishop of the diocese visited him, but he said to himself, “Nay, I will not open that jug. He would not know its value, nor would its aroma reach his nostrils.”

The prince of the realm came and supped with him. But he thought, “It is too royal a wine for a mere princeling.”

And even on the day when his own nephew was married, he said to himself, “No, not to these guests shall that jug be brought forth.”

And the years passed by, and he died, an old man, and he was buried like unto every seed and acorn.

And upon the day that he was buried the ancient jug was brought out together with other jugs of wine, and it was shared by the peasants of the neighbourhood. And none knew its great age.

To them, all that is poured into a cup is only wine.

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

On death

"You would know the secret of death. But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heath of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one." Excerpted from 'The Prophet' by Kahlil Gibran

The river

In the valley of Kadisha where the mighty river flows, two little streams met and spoke to one another.

One stream said, "How came you, my friend, and how was your path?"

And the other answered, "My path was most encumbered. The wheel of the mill was broken, and the master farmer who used to conduct me from my channel to his plants, is dead. I struggled down oozing with the filth of laziness in the sun. But how was your path, my brother?"

And the other stream answered and said, "Mine was a different path. I came down the hills among fragrant flowers and shy willows; men and women drank of me with silvery cups, and little children paddled their rosy feet at my edges, and there was laughter all about me, and there were sweet songs. What a pity that your path was not so happy."

At that moment the river spoke with a loud voice and said, "Come in, come in, we are going to the sea. Come in, come in, speak no more. Be with me now. We are going to the sea. Come in, come in, for in me you shall forget you wanderings, sad or gay. Come in, come in. And you and I will forget all our ways when we reach the heart of our mother the sea."

Excerpted from 'The Wanderer' by Kahlil Gibran

Religion

“Religion is a ploughed field, sown and irrigated by the desire of someone who aspires to paradise or by someone who fears hell.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

Teaching

“Before teaching others begin by educating yourself. Teach by example before teaching by words.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

Love

“Love does not possess nor would it be possessed; for Love is sufficient unto Love”
Excerpted from “The Prophet” by Kahlil Gibran

The Anthem of Humanity

I have existed from all eternity
and behold I am here,
and I shall exist till the end of time
for my being has no end.

I soared into limitless space
and took wing in the imaginal world,
approaching the circle of exalted light;
and here I am now mired in matter.

I listened to the teachings of Confucius,
imbibed the wisdom of Brahma,
and sat beside Buddha
beneath the tree of insight.
And now I am here,
wrestling with ignorance and unbelief.

I was on Sinai when Yahweh shed
His effulgence on Moses,
at the River Jordon
I witnessed the miracle of the Nazarene;
and in Medina I heard the words
of the Messenger to the Arabs.
And here I am now,
a captive of confusion.

I beheld the might of Babylon,
the glory of Egypt,
and the grandeur of Greece;
and I still see the weakness,
degradation, and pettiness
in all those works.

I sat with the sorcerors of Endor,
the seers of Assyria,
the prophets of Palestine;
and I persist in singing the truth.

I memorised the wisdom
revealed to India,
the heartfelt odes wrought
by the inhabitants
of the Arabian peninsular,
and the music that embodies
the sentiments of the Western people;
yet still I am blind and do not see,
deaf and do not hear.

I endured the brutality
of grasping conquerors,
suffered oppression
at the hands of tyrannical rulers,
and was enslaved by despots:
yet a power remains
whereby I struggle against the days.

I saw and heard all that
whilst still a child,
and shall see and hear the exploits
of youth and their consequences;
then I shall grow old,
and achieve perfection,
and return unto God.

I existed from all eternity
and behold I am here;
and I shall exist till the end of time,
for my being has no end.

from “The Vision Reflections on the Way of the Soul” by Kahlil Gibran