The Criminal V

A young man of strong body, weakened by hunger, sat on the walker's portion of the street stretching his hand toward all who passed, begging and repeating his hand toward all who passed, begging and repeating the sad song of his defeat in life, while suffering from hunger and from humiliation.

When night came, his lips and tongue were parched, while his hand was still as empty as his stomach.

He gathered himself and went out from the city, where he sat under a tree and wept bitterly. Then he lifted his puzzled eyes to heaven while hunger was eating his inside, and he said, "Oh Lord, I went to the rich man and asked for employment, but he turned me away because of my shabbiness; I knocked at the school door, but was forbidden solace because I was empty- handed; I sought any occupation that would give me bread, but all to no avail. In desperation I asked alms, but They worshippers saw me and said "He is strong and lazy, and he should not beg."

"Oh Lord, it is Thy will that my mother gave birth unto me, and now the earth offers me back to You before the Ending."

His expression then changed. He arose and his eyes now glittered in determination. He fashioned a thick and heavy stick from the branch of the tree, and pointed it toward the city, shouting, "I asked for bread with all the strength of my voice, and was refused. Not I shall obtain it by the strength of my muscles! I asked for bread in the name of mercy and love, but humanity did not heed. I shall take it now in the name of evil!"

The passing years rendered the youth a robber, killer and destroyer of souls; he crushed all who opposed him; he amassed fabulous wealth with which he won himself over to those in power. He was admired by colleagues, envied by other thieves, and feared by the multitudes.

His riches and false position prevailed upon the Emir to appoint him deputy in that city - the sad process pursued by unwise governors. Thefts were then legalized; oppression was supported by authority; crushing of the weak became commonplace; the throngs curried and praised.

Thus does the first touch of humanity's selfishness make criminals of the humble, and make killers of the sons of peace; thus does the early greed of humanity grow and strike back at humanity a thousand fold!

Khalil Gibran

Love's bowl(Monorhyme)

Her heart he stole,
he on a victory roll;
her flames of passion like burning coal,
he now her only goal;
alas! jilt caused her death toll,
thus shattered love's bowl!

The Farewell XXVIII

And now it was evening.

And Almitra the seeress said, "Blessed be this day and this place and your spirit that has spoken."

And he answered, Was it I who spoke? Was I not also a listener?

Then he descended the steps of the Temple and all the people followed him. And he reached his ship and stood upon the deck.

And facing the people again, he raised his voice and said:

People of Orphalese, the wind bids me leave you.

Less hasty am I than the wind, yet I must go.

We wanderers, ever seeking the lonelier way, begin no day where we have ended another day; and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.

Even while the earth sleeps we travel.

We are the seeds of the tenacious plant, and it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are given to the wind and are scattered.

Brief were my days among you, and briefer still the words I have spoken.

But should my voice fade in your ears, and my love vanish in your memory, then I will come again,

And with a richer heart and lips more yielding to the spirit will I speak.

Yea, I shall return with the tide,

And though death may hide me, and the greater silence enfold me, yet again will I seek your understanding.

And not in vain will I seek.

If aught I have said is truth, that truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice, and in words more kin to your thoughts.

I go with the wind, people of Orphalese, but not down into emptiness;

And if this day is not a fulfillment of your needs and my love, then let it be a promise till another day. Know therefore, that from the greater silence I shall return.

The mist that drifts away at dawn, leaving but dew in the fields, shall rise and gather into a cloud and then fall down in rain.

And not unlike the mist have I been.

In the stillness of the night I have walked in your streets, and my spirit has entered your houses,

And your heart-beats were in my heart, and your breath was upon my face, and I knew you all.

Ay, I knew your joy and your pain, and in your sleep your dreams were my dreams.

And oftentimes I was among you a lake among the mountains.

I mirrored the summits in you and the bending slopes, and even the passing flocks of your thoughts and your desires.

And to my silence came the laughter of your children in streams, and the longing of your youths in rivers.

And when they reached my depth the streams and the rivers ceased not yet to sing.

But sweeter still than laughter and greater than longing came to me.

It was boundless in you;

The vast man in whom you are all but cells and sinews;

He in whose chant all your singing is but a soundless throbbing.

It is in the vast man that you are vast,

And in beholding him that I beheld you and loved you.

For what distances can love reach that are not in that vast sphere?

What visions, what expectations and what presumptions can outsoar that flight?

Like a giant oak tree covered with apple blossoms is the vast man in you.

His mind binds you to the earth, his fragrance lifts you into space, and in his durability you are deathless.

You have been told that, even like a chain, you are as weak as your weakest link.

This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link.

To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of ocean by the frailty of its foam.

To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconsistency.

Ay, you are like an ocean,

And though heavy-grounded ships await the tide upon your shores, yet, even like an ocean, you cannot hasten your tides.

And like the seasons you are also,

And though in your winter you deny your spring,

Yet spring, reposing within you, smiles in her drowsiness and is not offended.

Think not I say these things in order that you may say the one to the other, "He praised us well. He saw but the good in us."

I only speak to you in words of that which you yourselves know in thought.

And what is word knowledge but a shadow of wordless knowledge?

Your thoughts and my words are waves from a sealed memory that keeps records of our yesterdays,

And of the ancient days when the earth knew not us nor herself,

And of nights when earth was upwrought with confusion,

Wise men have come to you to give you of their wisdom. I came to take of your wisdom:

And behold I have found that which is greater than wisdom.

It is a flame spirit in you ever gathering more of itself,

While you, heedless of its expansion, bewail the withering of your days.

It is life in quest of life in bodies that fear the grave.

There are no graves here.

These mountains and plains are a cradle and a stepping-stone.

Whenever you pass by the field where you have laid your ancestors look well thereupon, and you shall see yourselves and your children dancing hand in hand.

Verily you often make merry without knowing.

Others have come to you to whom for golden promises made unto your faith you have given but riches and power and glory.

Less than a promise have I given, and yet more generous have you been to me.

You have given me deeper thirsting after life.

Surely there is no greater gift to a man than that which turns all his aims into parching lips and all life into a fountain.

And in this lies my honour and my reward, -

That whenever I come to the fountain to drink I find the living water itself thirsty;

And it drinks me while I drink it.

Some of you have deemed me proud and over-shy to receive gifts.

To proud indeed am I to receive wages, but not gifts.

And though I have eaten berries among the hill when you would have had me sit at your board,

And slept in the portico of the temple where you would gladly have sheltered me,

Yet was it not your loving mindfulness of my days and my nights that made food sweet to my mouth and girdled my sleep with visions?

For this I bless you most:

You give much and know not that you give at all.

Verily the kindness that gazes upon itself in a mirror turns to stone,

And a good deed that calls itself by tender names becomes the parent to a curse.

And some of you have called me aloof, and drunk with my own aloneness,

And you have said, "He holds council with the trees of the forest, but not with men.

He sits alone on hill-tops and looks down upon our city."

True it is that I have climbed the hills and walked in remote places.

How could I have seen you save from a great height or a great distance?

How can one be indeed near unless he be far?

And others among you called unto me, not in words, and they said,

Stranger, stranger, lover of unreachable heights, why dwell you among the summits where eagles build their nests?

Why seek you the unattainable?

What storms would you trap in your net,

And what vaporous birds do you hunt in the sky?

Come and be one of us.

Descend and appease your hunger with our bread and quench your thirst with our wine."

In the solitude of their souls they said these things;

But were their solitude deeper they would have known that I sought but the secret of your joy and your pain,

And I hunted only your larger selves that walk the sky.

But the hunter was also the hunted:

For many of my arrows left my bow only to seek my own breast.

And the flier was also the creeper;

For when my wings were spread in the sun their shadow upon the earth was a turtle.

And I the believer was also the doubter;

For often have I put my finger in my own wound that I might have the greater belief in you and the greater knowledge of you.

And it is with this belief and this knowledge that I say,

You are not enclosed within your bodies, nor confined to houses or fields.

That which is you dwells above the mountain and roves with the wind.

It is not a thing that crawls into the sun for warmth or digs holes into darkness for safety,

But a thing free, a spirit that envelops the earth and moves in the ether.

If this be vague words, then seek not to clear them.

Vague and nebulous is the beginning of all things, but not their end,

And I fain would have you remember me as a beginning.

Life, and all that lives, is conceived in the mist and not in the crystal.

And who knows but a crystal is mist in decay?

This would I have you remember in remembering me:

That which seems most feeble and bewildered in you is the strongest and most determined.

Is it not your breath that has erected and hardened the structure of your bones?

And is it not a dream which none of you remember having dreamt that building your city and fashioned all there is in it?

Could you but see the tides of that breath you would cease to see all else,

And if you could hear the whispering of the dream you would hear no other sound.

But you do not see, nor do you hear, and it is well.

The veil that clouds your eyes shall be lifted by the hands that wove it,

And the clay that fills your ears shall be pierced by those fingers that kneaded it.

And you shall see

And you shall hear.

Yet you shall not deplore having known blindness, nor regret having been deaf.

For in that day you shall know the hidden purposes in all things,

And you shall bless darkness as you would bless light.


After saying these things he looked about him, and he saw the pilot of his ship standing by the helm and gazing now at the full sails and now at the distance.

And he said:

Patient, over-patient, is the captain of my ship.

The wind blows, and restless are the sails;

Even the rudder begs direction;

Yet quietly my captain awaits my silence.

And these my mariners, who have heard the choir of the greater sea, they too have heard me patiently.

Now they shall wait no longer.

I am ready.

The stream has reached the sea, and once more the great mother holds her son against her breast.

Fare you well, people of Orphalese.

This day has ended.

It is closing upon us even as the water-lily upon its own tomorrow.

What was given us here we shall keep,

And if it suffices not, then again must we come together and together stretch our hands unto the giver.

Forget not that I shall come back to you.

A little while, and my longing shall gather dust and foam for another body.

A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me.

Farewell to you and the youth I have spent with you.

It was but yesterday we met in a dream.

You have sung to me in my aloneness, and I of your longings have built a tower in the sky.

But now our sleep has fled and our dream is over, and it is no longer dawn.

The noontide is upon us and our half waking has turned to fuller day, and we must part.

If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song.

And if our hands should meet in another dream, we shall build another tower in the sky.


So saying he made a signal to the seamen, and straightaway they weighed anchor and cast the ship loose from its moorings, and they moved eastward.

And a cry came from the people as from a single heart, and it rose the dusk and was carried out over the sea like a great trumpeting.

Only Almitra was silent, gazing after the ship until it had vanished into the mist.

And when all the people were dispersed she still stood alone upon the sea-wall, remembering in her heart his saying,

A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me."

Khalil Gibran

EDGE OF LOVE

So brilliant is the diamond's shine
That the pain inflicted by its unpolished edges
Is often overlooked

And so is love
Once dazzling as the stars
When tested may fade
And sharpens as a sword
Piercing one's heart.


Nancy Crossland
4/13/2009

Give Indonesia Back to Me

Indonesia's future is two hundred million gaping mouths.

Indonesia's future is 15-watt light globes, some white and some black, lighting alternately.

Indonesia's future is a game of Ping-Pong, going on all day and all night with a ball shaped like a goose egg.

Indonesia's future is the island of Java sinking under its population of one hundred million people.

Give

Indonesia

back

to me.

Indonesia's future is one million people playing Ping-Pong night and day with a goose-egg under the 15-watt light globes.

Indonesia's future is Java sinking slowly because of the weight of its burden and then the geese swimming on top of it.

Indonesia's future is two hundred million gaping mouths, with 15-watt light globes in them, some white and some black, lightning alternately.

Indonesia's future is white geese swimming as they play Ping-Pong on top of the sinking island of Java and taking the hundred million 15-watt globes to the bottom of the sea.

Give

Indonesia

back

to me.

Indonesia's future is a game of Ping-Pong going on all day and all night with a ball shaped like a goose-egg.

Indonesia's future is the island of Java sinking under its population of one hundred million people.

Indonesia's future is 15-watt globes, some white and some black, lightning alternately.

Indonesia's future is two hundred million gaping mouths.

Give

Indonesia

back

to me.

The Ballad of the Losers (The Defeated)

maybe we are just tired after centuries of debates

to see the tree and mountain fall down one by one

valley and river are full of stones

and the rain that is reluctant to come to the ground

maybe we are just tired after centuries of anger

to see the river and sea blackened because of spilled oil

the big fishing boat that continuously spread its net

forces away the fishermen's boats to the [shallow] coastal waters

maybe we are just tired, losing energy

to breath the smog from the cars that fills6

the air

the bad smell from scattered garbage

the clogged up ditch in all over the city

maybe we are just tired and almost giving up

to the law of the nature that has begun to change

maybe we are just tired because the rays from the fire starts to dim

blown by the strong wind without any barriers

maybe we are just tired because we are tired

all out of energy all out of blood [=bled dry]

Why Do I Love You?

your eyes look at my eyes

your fingers touch my fingers

you smile, I’m flattered;

a simple beginning of love

because

Your love is no more than a morning

that always wakes (me) up

you open the net of my heart,

you pour the wine into my cup,

two centimeter from the bottom,

‘I don’t want you to be drunk’, you said

because

your love is no more than light that

accompanies the night

no enchant chain of words,

my words sink into your hugs

your words are foundered in my hands’ reach,

your heartbeats thunder my chest, explode but does not

scratch, ripples but does not become waves,

moves softly,

closes my eyes and your eyes in the beauty

that does not soar

because

Your love is no more than a swallow of water that

quench my thirst

you do not let my sorrow becomes cry,

you do not let my laugh makes me be forgetful,

you never put stocks in my leg so that

I can walk, run,

you never tie chains in my hands,

so that I can hold the world,

to materialize hope,

because

Your love is the blanket that calms me

you let me:

go and come in your poem

to choose the lyrics to write my story

because

Your love is the wind that guides me

you liberate me

into an independent soul

that’s why

I love you

indeed…

Good Morning, God!

I open the window,

God greets me

"what do you want today?"

"God," I said, "liberate all the oppressed souls"

God smiles through fragrance of roses

My parrot sings happily enjoying the smell

I open the cage

extend my hand inside

touch her

She looks at me in doubt

I nod my head

She flies to the blue sky

Good morning God

Thank you

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry,

I cannot write a lot

the ink is empty

I scratched the sky last night

with your name....

A Bathroom's Daydream

It might be good,

not to take notes of life

in the pages of diary book

One time,

if we read it again

sweet, makes us want to go back

bitter, makes our sorrow unforgettable

It might be good,

reflect on life

in a quiet bathroom

No need to be ashamed,

to remember, smile or cry

After that,

flush all of them

be ready to receive new food

that is better than yesterday

Drown me in tears

Cry me a river,
it’s shallow and I'll walk it off.
Cry me an ocean;
I’ll be swept away at sea knowing you actually loved me back.
Don't cry
And I'll be chasing rainbows
never knowing what was actually ever there.

LOVING BUT LEAVING

That yesterday I was still waiting
When would you arise from the hottest desert
Then silently you hug me at the side of oasis
Get me out from a restless wind of the night
Not when the sandy storms fade away,
again you joined with the armed horsemen

Today I am still waiting
If you are the waves which surely draw closer to wash my feet
Then I would always step on the shore
Or to become leaves of mangrove
Take me to the caves you have already lit
Not when the tsunami out there stops,
again you sail across the ocean

Maybe tomorrow I would just wake up
From the waiting bench at the old railway station
One by one the incoming trains get off, odd faces
If it is true that you who grasp my finger,
how can I trust that you can be changed
Loving, but leaving

The Creation I

The God separated a spirit from Himself and fashioned it into Beauty. He showered upon her all the blessings of gracefulness and kindness. He gave her the cup of happiness and said, "Drink not from this cup unless you forget the past and the future, for happiness is naught but the moment." And He also gave her a cup of sorrow and said, "Drink from this cup and you will understand the meaning of the fleeting instants of the joy of life, for sorrow ever abounds."

And the God bestowed upon her a love that would desert he forever upon her first sigh of earthly satisfaction, and a sweetness that would vanish with her first awareness of flattery.

And He gave her wisdom from heaven to lead to the all-righteous path, and placed in the depth of her heart and eye that sees the unseen, and created in he an affection and goodness toward all things. He dressed her with raiment of hopes spun by the angels of heaven from the sinews of the rainbow. And He cloaked her in the shadow of confusion, which is the dawn of life and light.

Then the God took consuming fire from the furnace of anger, and searing wind from the desert of ignorance, and sharp- cutting sands from the shore of selfishness, and coarse earth from under the feet of ages, and combined them all and fashioned Man. He gave to Man a blind power that rages and drives him into a madness which extinguishes only before gratification of desire, and placed life in him which is the specter of death.

And the god laughed and cried. He felt an overwhelming love and pity for Man, and sheltered him beneath His guidance.

Khalil Gibran

The Beauty of Death XIV

Part One - The Calling Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights; Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body; Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume, And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead. Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired; Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit; Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart. Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests. Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers Raise their crowns to greet the dawn. Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light Between my bed and the infinite; Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of Her white wings. Come close and bid me farewell; touch my eyes with smiling lips. Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers; Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me; Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes, And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath. Part Two - The Ascending I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the Firmament of complete and unbound freedom; I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are Hiding the hills from my eyes. The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses; The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight And red as the twilight. The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence; And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity In exact harmony with the spirit's desires. I am cloaked in full whiteness; I am in comfort; I am in peace. Part Three - The Remains Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me With leaves of jasmine and lilies; Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest Upon pillows of orange blossoms. Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy; Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress; Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your Finger the symbol of Love and Joy. Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems, But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life; Mourn me not with apparel of black, But dress in color and rejoice with me; Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore. Place me upon clusters of leaves and Carry my upon your friendly shoulders and Walk slowly to the deserted forest. Take me not to the crowded burying ground lest my slumber Be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls. Carry me to the cypress woods and dig my grave where violets And poppies grow not in the other's shadow; Let my grave be deep so that the flood will not Carry my bones to the open valley; Let my grace be wide, so that the twilight shadows Will come and sit by me. Take from me all earthly raiment and place me deep in my Mother Earth; and place me with care upon my mother's breast. Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed With seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle; and when they Grow above me, and thrive on my body's element they will Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space; And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace; And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer. Leave me then, friends - leave me and depart on mute feet, As the silence walks in the deserted valley; Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly, as the almond And apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of Nisan's breeze. Go back to the joy of your dwellings and you will find there That which Death cannot remove from you and me. Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning From the earthly world. Leave me. Khalil Gibran

Song of the Soul XXII

In the depth of my soul there is A wordless song - a song that lives In the seed of my heart. It refuses to melt with ink on Parchment; it engulfs my affection In a transparent cloak and flows, But not upon my lips. How can I sigh it? I fear it may Mingle with earthly ether; To whom shall I sing it? It dwells In the house of my soul, in fear of Harsh ears. When I look into my inner eyes I see the shadow of its shadow; When I touch my fingertips I feel its vibrations. The deeds of my hands heed its Presence as a lake must reflect The glittering stars; my tears Reveal it, as bright drops of dew Reveal the secret of a withering rose. It is a song composed by contemplation, And published by silence, And shunned by clamor, And folded by truth, And repeated by dreams, And understood by love, And hidden by awakening, And sung by the soul. It is the song of love; What Cain or Esau could sing it? It is more fragrant than jasmine; What voice could enslave it? It is heartbound, as a virgin's secret; What string could quiver it? Who dares unite the roar of the sea And the singing of the nightingale? Who dares compare the shrieking tempest To the sigh of an infant? Who dares speak aloud the words Intended for the heart to speak? What human dares sing in voice The song of God? Khalil Gibran

Good and Evil XXII

And one of the elders of the city said, "Speak to us of Good and Evil." And he answered: Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil. For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst? Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters. You are good when you are one with yourself. Yet when you are not one with yourself you are not evil. For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house. And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sink not to the bottom. You are good when you strive to give of yourself. Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself. For when you strive for gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast. Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, "Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance." For to the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root. You are good when you are fully awake in your speech, Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose. And even stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue. You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. Even those who limp go not backward. But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness. You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good, You are only loitering and sluggard. Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles. In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you. But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest. And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore. But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, "Wherefore are you slow and halting?" For the truly good ask not the naked, "Where is your garment?" nor the houseless, "What has befallen your house?" Khalil Gibran

Freedom XIV

And an orator said, "Speak to us of Freedom."

And he answered:

At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,

Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.

Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.

And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfillment.

You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,

But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.

And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?

In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle the eyes.

And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?

If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.

You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.

And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.

For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their won pride?

And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.

And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.

Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.

These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.

And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.

And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

Khalil Gibran

Beauty XXV

And a poet said, "Speak to us of Beauty."

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?

And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle.

Like a young mother half-shy of her own 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 of 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 forever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever 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.

Khalil Gibran

On Pain

Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.

Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.

And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;

And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.

And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.

Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:

For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,

And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.

Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran Biography

Gibran Khalil Gibran (aka Jubran Kahlil Jubran) was born into a Maronite Family on January 6, 1883 at Bsharri, a town near Mount Fam al-MIzab in Northern Lebanon. Gibran was born as the first child to his mother, second overall (first son named Butros), from her second marriage.

Just two years later, his first sister, Marianna was born and two years after another sister, Sultana was born. When 1888 came about, Gibran entered a small one-class village school where he learned Arabic, Syriac and Arithmetic.

In 1895, Gibran, his two sisters and Butros emigrated to Chinatown in Boston while their father, a tax collector and drunkard, stayed behind. Butros opened a small shop and began earning the families only source of income. Doing so allowed Gibran to join the local school and angelicize to Khalil Gibran.

Showing promise in drawing and painting, Gibran was introduced to the Bostonian photographer and artist Fred Holland Day. As Day was experimenting with photography as art, Gibran was photographed on several occasions, sometimes nude. Gibran was then sent back to Lebanon to further his studies at al-Hikma high school in Beirut. His studies required more learning of Arabic, French and literature.

For a short period in 1901, Gibran returned to Boston with his family. However, shortly after in 1902, while traveling to Lebanon as a translator for an American family, Gibran heard the news of his youngest sister's, Sultana, death from tuberculosis and quickly returned home to visit with his family.

The following year was no better. Gibran faced two more deaths, his half-brother Butros from tuberculosis and his mother from cancer.

In 1904, Gibran's first picture exhibition was held at Fred Holland Day's studio. This exhibition was the start of many publications which came in the following years, including al-Musiqa; which emphasizes on Arabic music and its various forms, al-Arwah al-Mutamclrrida (Spirits Rebellious); four short stories about the spirit of 'Ara is al-Muruj.

In 1908, after his publication in New York, Gibran left to Paris to study art taught by Mary Haskell. Just two years later, Gibran met Ameen Rihani, who was headed to New York City, and visited London to educate themselves by the art in the city. The two then went separate ways. Gibran then returned to Boston after spending two years and four months in Paris and traveling London.

Few Lines To Love

Kiss me
Kiss me again
Hold me
Hold this moment
Stars are bright
Moon beam shining
Take a flight
On this silver lining
Come to me
Breaking your odd
Let us agree
Love is the God.

by Sourav

A sense of love

"Love is that first feeling you feel before all the bad stuff gets in the way."

"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."

"When someone loves you, the way she says your name is different. You know that your name is safe in her mouth."

"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."

"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your french fries without making them give you any of theirs."

"Love is when someone hurts you. And you get so mad but you don't yell at him because you know it would hurt his feelings."

"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My mommy and daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss but they look happy and sometimes they dance in the kitchen while kissing."

"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."

"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate."

"Love is hugging. Love is kissing. Love is saying no."

"When you tell someone something bad about yourself and you're scared she won't love you anymore. But then you get surprised because not only does she still love you, she loves you even more."

"There are 2 kinds of love. Our love. God's love. But God makes both kinds of them."

"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they've know each other so well."

"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling. He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."

"Love is-if you hold hands and sit beside each other in the cafeteria. That means you're in love. Otherwise, you can sit across from each other and be okay."

"My mommy loves me more than anybody. You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."

"Love is when mommy gives daddy the best piece of chicken."

"Don't feel so bad if you don't have a boyfriend. There's lots of stuff you can do without one."

"Love is when mommy sees daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."

"If you want somebody to love you, then just be yourself. Some people try to act like somebody else, somebody the boy likes better. I think the boy isn't being very good if he does this to you and you should just find a nicer boy."

"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day"

"When you're born and see your mommy for the first time.

"Love is what makes people hide in the dark corners of movie theaters."

"Love goes on even when you stop breathing and you pick up where you left off when you reach heaven."

"My enemies taught me how to love."

"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."

"You have to fall in love before you get married. Then when you're married, you just sit around and read books together."

"I let my big sister pick on me because my Mom says she only picks on me because she loves me. So I pick on my baby sister because I love her."

"Love cards like Valentine's cards say stuff on them that we'd like to say ourselves, but we wouldn't be caught dead saying."

"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you."

"Love is when mommy sees daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."

"You never have to be lonely. There's always somebody to love, even if it's just a squirrel or a kitten."

"You can break love, but it won't die."

What is the meaning of love?

Most people who claim to love someone don’t really love them, because they don’t know what love actually is.
What is love NOT?

Possessiveness is not love
Jealousy is not love
Lust is not love
Fear is not love
Keeping people all to yourself is not love
Expecting something from someone is not love

Real love is unconditional. All other “forms” of love are not really love. Most parents and kids don’t love each other, most people in relationships don’t love each other, most people on the planet never experience unconditional love in their entire lives… or at least it sure looks that way.

To love someone unconditionally means that you love the person exactly as they are, exactly as they were before, and exactly as they will be in the future - because people change all the time, so if you love the person, you will love them even if they become something you disagree with. How many parents can say that about their kids? How many people can say that about their “lover”? Love is not about you or your pleasure or your amusement. It’s not about what you get out of it or what the other person can give to you. It’s not about having a trophy you can show off with and tell people “This is *MY* girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband/son/daughter/whatever”. You do not “own” anyone. It’s not about you feeling ‘proud’ to be with someone who always agrees with everything you say and do and never does anything you disagree with. Unconditional love means that the person can just live their life exactly as they choose and you will always be there for them no matter what.

So, how does unconditional love fit in with relationships and marriage and sex and all that stuff the whole world keeps going crazy over? It doesn’t, really. It doesn’t “fit” in anywhere. Relationships are like trying to put love into a box and keep it there, except love is infinitely sized, and the box is… well, there is no box large enough. And a normal, conventional marriage is quite possibly the worst possible way to show someone how much you love them.

Unconditional love is more of a spiritual thing. It’s not bound by physical things, like blood relations and the desire to procreate. It has nothing whatsoever to do with sex. Most people are in relationships because they’re horny and/or lonely, even if they genuinely think they love the other person. But if the person they “love” suddenly lost their “equipment” for whatever reason, would they still want to be with that person? Would they get jealous if the person they “love” wanted to spend time with other people as well? Relationships based on needs are not unconditional.

In order to truly understand love, you must first forget everything you have ever learned about it from society and anyone else (including what I just said). You are the only person who can tell you what love is. The only reason I’m writing all this stuff is because people always try to fit “love” in with things like dating, relationships and marriage and all that. You can’t make any sense of it if you keep doing that. You have to get rid of everything you think you know first.

from : http://www.themeaningoflove.net/