On Love, from The PROPHET, by Kahlil
Gibran
Then said Almitra, "Speak
to us of Love."
And he raised his head
and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon
them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you
follow him,
Though his ways are hard
and steep.
And when his wings enfold
you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden
among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you
believe in him,
Though his voice may
shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns
you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth
so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to
your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver
in the sun,
So shall he descend to
your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he
gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make
you naked.
He sifts you to free you
from your husks.
He grinds you to
whiteness.
He kneads you until you
are pliant;
And then he assigns you
to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for
God's sacred feast.
All these things shall
love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your
heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's
heart.
But if in your fear you
would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you
that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's
threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world
where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and
weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but
itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor
would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient
unto love.
When you love you should
not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, I am in the heart
of God."
And
think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it
finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has
no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if
you love and must needs have desires, let these be your
desires:
To melt
and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the
night.
To know
the pain of too much tenderness.
To be
wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to
bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake
at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day
of loving;
To rest
at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To
return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then
to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a
song of praise upon your lips.
