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Khalil Gibran

Kahlil Gibran On Silence And Talking

Kahlil Gibran (January 6, 1883 โ€“ April 10, 1931) You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts; And when you can no longer dwell in the solitude of your heart you live in your lips, and sound is a diversion and a pastime. And in much of your talking, thinking is [โ€ฆ]

Kahlil Gibran On Silence And Talking

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Khalil Gibran

Laughter and Tears – Khalil Gibran

As the sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley.

When the birds took shelter among the boughs, and the flowers folded their petals, and tremendous silence descended, I heard a rustle of feet through the grass.

I took heed and saw a young couple approaching my arbour. They say under a tree where I could see them without being seen. After he looked about in every direction, I heard the young man saying, “Sit by me, my beloved, and listen to my heart; smile, for your happiness, is a symbol of our future; be merry, for the sparkling days rejoice with us.

“My soul is warning me of the doubt in your heart, for doubt in love is a sin. “Soon you will be the owner of this vast land, lighted by this beautiful moon; soon you will be the mistress of my palace, and all the servants and maids will obey your commands. “Smile, my beloved, like the gold smiles from my father’s coffers. “My heart refuses to deny you its secret.

Twelve months of comfort and travel await us; for a year we will spend my father’s gold at the blue lakes of Switzerland, and viewing the edifices of Italy and Egypt, and resting under the Holy Cedars of Lebanon; you will meet the princesses who will envy you for your jewels and clothes. “All these things I will do for you; will you be satisfied?”

In a little while, I saw them walking and stepping on flowers as the rich step upon the hearts of the poor. As they disappeared from my sight, I commenced to make comparisons between love and money and to analyze their position in the heart. Money! The source of insincere love; the spring of false light and fortune; the well of poisoned water; the desperation of old age!

I was still wandering in the vast desert of contemplation when a forlorn and spectre-like couple passed by me and sat on the grass; a young man and a young; woman who had left their farming shacks in the nearby fields for this cool and solitary place. After a few moments of complete silence, I heard the following words uttered with sighs from weather-bitten lips, “Shed not tears, my beloved; love that opens our eyes and enslaves our hearts can give us the blessing of patience. Be consoled in our delay, for we have taken an oath and entered Love’s shrine; for our love will ever grow in adversity; for it is in Love’s name that we are suffering the obstacles of poverty and the sharpness of misery and the emptiness of separation.

I shall attack these hardships until I triumph and place in your hands a strength that will help over all things to complete the journey of life. “Love – which is God – will consider our sighs and tears as incense burned at His altar and He will reward us with fortitude. Good-bye, my beloved; I must leave before the heartening moon vanishes.” A pure voice, combined with the consuming flame of love, and the hopeless bitterness of longing and the resolved sweetness of patience, said, “Good-bye, my beloved.”

They separated, and the elegy to their union was smothered by the wails of my crying heart. I looked upon slumbering Nature, and with deep reflection discovered the reality of a vast and infinite thing — something no power could demand, influence acquire, nor riches purchase. Nor could it be effaced by the tears of time or deadened by sorrow; a thing which cannot be discovered by the blue lakes of Switzerland or the beautiful edifices of Italy.

It is something that gathers strength with patience, grows despite obstacles, warms in winter, flourishes in spring, casts a breeze in summer, and bears fruit in autumn, I found Love.

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Khalil Gibran

Beauty – Khalil Gibran

And a poet said, “Speak to us of Beauty.” Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she is your way and your guide? And how shall you speak of her except she is the weaver of your speech? The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young mother half-shy of her glory, she walks among us.” And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread. Like the tempest, she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.” The tired and the weary say, “beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit. Her voice yields to our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow.” But the restless say, “We have heard her shouting among the mountains, And with her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and the roaring of lions.” At night the watchmen of the city say, “Beauty shall rise with the dawn from the east.” And at noontide, the toilers and the wayfarers say, “we have seen her leaning over the earth from the windows of the sunset.” In winter say the snow-bound, “She shall come with the spring leaping upon the hills.” And in the summer heat, the reapers say, “We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.” All these things have you said of beauty. Yet in truth, you spoke not of her but needs unsatisfied, And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted. It is not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, But rather an image you see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut your ears. It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to a claw, But rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels in flight. People of Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils her holy face. But you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror. But you are eternity and you are the mirror. ~ Beauty – Khalil Gibran

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Poet’s Death is His Life IV – Khalil Gibran

The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling. In a dark recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds. He a man in the spring of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of life was fast nearing. He was awaiting Death’s visit gratefully, and upon his pale face appeared the dawn of hope, and on his lops a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes forgiveness. He was a poet perishing from hunger in the city of living rich. He was placed in the earthly world to enliven the heart of man with his beautiful and profound sayings. He is a noble soul, sent by the Goddess of Understanding to soothe and make gentle the human spirit. But alas! He gladly bade the cold earth farewell without receiving a smile from its strange occupants. He was breathing his last and had no one at his bedside save the oil lamp, his only companion, and some parchments upon which he had inscribed his heart’s feeling. As he salvaged the remnants of his withering strength he lifted his hands heavenward; he moved his eyes hopelessly as if wanting to penetrate the ceiling to see the stars from behind the veil clouds. And he said, “Come, oh beautiful Death; my soul is longing for you. Come close to me and unfasten the irons life, for I am weary of dragging them. Come, oh sweet Death, and deliver me from my neighbours who looked upon me as a stranger because I interpret to them the language of the angels. Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings, for my fellowmen are not in want of me. Embrace me, oh Death, full of love and mercy; let your lips touch my lips which never tasted a mother’s kiss, not touched a sister’s cheeks, not caresses a sweetheart’s fingertips. Come and take me, my beloved Death.” Then, at the bedside of the dying poet appeared an angel who possessed a supernatural and divine beauty, holding in her hand a wreath of lilies. She embraced him and closed his eyes so he could see no more, except with the eye of his spirit. She impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left an eternal smile of fulfilment upon his lips. Then the hovel became empty and nothing was lest save parchments and papers which the poet had strewn with bitter futility. Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseases slumber of ignorance and saw the dawn of knowledge, they erected a monument in the most beautiful garden of the city and celebrated a feast every year in honour of that poet, whose writings had freed them. Oh, how cruel is man’s ignorance! ~ A Poet’s Death is His Life IV – Khalil Gibran

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Khalil Gibran

A Lover’s Call – Khalil Gibran

Where are you, my beloved?

Are you in that little Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you

As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?

Or are you in your chamber where the shrine of Virtue has been placed in your honour, and upon

Which you offer my heart and soul as sacrifice?

Or amongst the books, seeking human knowledge,

While you are replete with heavenly wisdom?

Oh, companion of my soul, where are you?

Are you Praying in the temple?

Or calling Nature in the Field, haven of your dreams?

Are you in the huts of the poor, consoling the Broken-hearted with the sweetness of your soul, and Filling their hands with your bounty?

You are God’s spirit everywhere; You are stronger than the ages.

Do you have a memory of the day we met, when the halo of Your spirit surrounded us, and the Angels of Love

Floated about, singing the praise of the soul’s deed?

Do you recollect our sitting in the shade of the

Branches, sheltering ourselves from Humanity, as the ribs

Protect the divine secret of the heart from injury?

Remember you the trails and forest we walked, with hands joined, and our heads leaning against each other as if

We were hiding within ourselves?

Recall you the hour I bade you farewell,

And the Maritime kiss you placed on my lips?

That kiss taught me that joining of lips in Love

Reveals heavenly secrets which the tongue cannot utter!

That kiss was an introduction to a great sigh,

Like the Almighty’s breath that turned earth into man.

That sigh led my way into the spiritual world,

Announcing the glory of my soul, and there

It shall perpetuate until again we meet.

I remember when you kissed me and kissed me,

With tears coursing your cheeks, and you said,

“Earthly bodies must often separate for earthly purpose,

And must live apart impelled by worldly intent.

“But the spirit remains joined safely in the hands of

Love until death arrives and takes joined souls to God.

“Go, my beloved;

Love has chosen you her delegate;

Over her, for she is Beauty who offers to her follower

The cup of the sweetness of life.

As for my empty arms, your love shall remain my

Comforting groom;

you memory, my Eternal wedding.”

Where are you now, my other self?

Are you awake in

The silence of the night?

Let the clean breeze convey

To you, my heart’s every beat and affection.

Are you fondling my face in your memory?

That image

Is no longer my own,

for Sorrow has dropped his

Shadow on my happy countenance of the past.

Sobs have withered my eyes which reflected your beauty

And dried my lips which you sweetened with kisses.

Where are you, my beloved?

Do you hear my weeping

From beyond the ocean?

Do you understand my need?

Do you know the greatness of my patience?

Is there any spirit in the air capable of conveying

To you the breath of this dying youth?

Is there any

Secret communication between angels that will carry to

You my complaint?

Where are you, my beautiful star?

The obscurity of life

Has cast me upon its bosom; sorrow has conquered me.

Sail your smile into the air; it will reach and enliven me!

Breathe your fragrance into the air; it will sustain me!

Where are you, me beloved?

Oh, how great is Love! And how little am I!

~ A Lover’s Call – Khalil Gibran