Kahlil Gibran

[Kathy Ellen]

THE PEARL



Said one oyster to a neighbouring oyster, “I have a very great pain within me. It is heavy and round and I am in distress.”



And the other oyster replied with haughty complacence, “Praise be to the heavens and to the sea, I have no pain within me. I am well and whole both within and without.”



At that moment a crab was passing by and heard the two oysters, and he said to the one who was well and whole both within and without, “Yes, you are well and whole; but the pain that your neighbour bears is a pearl of exceeding beauty.”

[Kathy Ellen]

TEARS AND LAUGHTER

Upon the bank of the Nile at eventide, a hyena met a crocodile and they stopped and greeted one another.

The hyena spoke and said, “How goes the day with you, Sir?”

And the crocodile answered saying, “It goes badly with me. Sometimes in my pain and sorrow I weep, and then the creatures always say, ‘They are but crocodile tears.’ And this wounds me beyond all telling.”

Then the hyena said, “You speak of your pain and your sorrow, but think of me also, for a moment. I gaze at the beauty of the world, its wonders and its miracles, and out of sheer joy I laugh even as the day laughs. And then the people of the jungle say, ‘It is but the laughter of a hyena.’ ”

[Kathy Ellen]

...On Children

Kahlil Gibran





Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

[Kathy Ellen]

...On Self-Knowledge

Kahlil Gibran



Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.

But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.

You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.

You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.





And it is well you should.

The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;

And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.

But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;

And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.

For self is a sea boundless and measureless.





Say not, "I have found the truth," but rather, "I have found a truth."

Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path."

For the soul walks upon all paths.

The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.

The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.

[Kathy Ellen]

The Beauty of Death



By: Kahlil Gibran



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.

[Kindle]

Kathy Ellen;1096224 wrote: ...On Children

Kahlil Gibran





Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.


This is one of my favorites of his.....................

[kazalala]

Thanks for posting these Kathy:-4 i enjoyed reading them very much:D

[along-for-the-ride]

Thank you for sharing with us, Kathy Ellen.

Words of wisdom as we leave one year behind us.

[KB.]

Kahlil Gibran is one of my favorites. He has been since I was five or so and found his books in an old trunk of my dads.