Kahlil Gibran

My soul and I went to the great sea to bathe.  And when we reached the shore, we went about looking for a hidden and lonely place. But as we walked, we saw a man sitting on a grey rock taking pinches of salt from a bag and throwing them into the sea. “This is the pessimist,” said my soul, “Let us leave this place. We cannot bathe here.” We walked on until we reached an inlet.  There we saw, standing on a white rock, a man holding a bejeweled box, from which he took sugar and threw it into the sea. “And this is the optimist,” said my soul, “And he too must not see our naked bodies.” Further on we walked.  And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead fish and tenderly putting them back into the water. “And we cannot bathe before him,” said my soul.  “He is the humane philanthropist.” And we passed on. Then we came where we saw a man tracing his shadow on the sand. Great waves came and erased it.  But he went on tracing it again and again. “He is the mystic,” said my soul, “Let us leave him.” And we walked on, till in a quiet cover we saw a man scooping up the foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl. “He is the idealist,” said my soul, “Surely he must not see our nudity.” And on we walked.  Suddenly we heard a voice crying, “This is the sea.  This is the deep sea.  This is the vast and mighty sea.” And when we reached the voice it was a man whose back was turned to the sea, and at his ear he held a shell, listening to its murmur. And my soul said, “Let us pass on.  He is the realist, who turns his back on the whole he cannot grasp, and busies himself with a fragment.” So we passed on.  And in a weedy place among the rocks was a man with his head buried in the sand.  And I said to my soul, “We can bath here, for he cannot see us.” “Nay,” said my soul, “For he is the most deadly of them all.  He is the puritan.” Then a great sadness came over the face of my soul, and into her voice. “Let us go hence,” she said, “For there is no lonely, hidden place where we can bathe.  I would not have this wind lift my golden hair, or bare my white bosom in this air, or let the light disclose my sacred nakedness.” Then we left that sea to seek the Greater Sea.

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. Aeons upon aeons have passed since the first grey dawn made us visible to one another; and though we have seen the birth and the fullness and the death of many worlds, we are still eager and young. We are young and eager and yet we are mateless and unvisited, and though we lie in unbroken half embrace, we are uncomforted.  And what comfort is there for controlled desire and unspent passion? Whence shall come the flaming god to warm my sister’s bed?  And what she-torrent shall quench my brother’s fire?  And who is the woman that shall command my heart? In the stillness of the night my sister murmurs in her sleep the fire-god’s unknown name, and my brother calls afar upon the cool and distant goddess.  But upon whom I call in my sleep I know not. *        *         * 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.

Once, as I was burying one of my dead selves, the grave-digger came by and said to me, “Of all those who come here to bury, you alone I like.” Said I, “You please me exceedingly, but why do you like me?” “Because,” said he, “They come weeping and go weeping—you only come laughing and go laughing.”

The Good God and the Evil God met on the mountain top. The Good God said, “Good day to you, brother.” The Evil God did not answer. And the Good God said, “You are in a bad humour today.” “Yes,” said the Evil God, “for of late I have been often mistaken for you, called by your name, and treated as if I were you, and it ill-pleases me.” And the Good God said, “But I too have been mistaken for you and called by your name.” The Evil God walked away cursing the stupidity of man.

In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips, I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, “Master, I am thy slave.  Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee for ever more.” But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away. And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, “Creator, I am thy creation.  Out of clay hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all.” And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed away. And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke unto God again, saying, “Father, I am thy son.  In pity and love thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall inherit thy kingdom.” And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant hills he passed away. And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, “My God, my aim and my fulfillment; I am thy yesterday and thou are my tomorrow.  I am thy root in the earth and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the face of the sun.” Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness, and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to her, he enfolded me. And when I descended to the valleys and the plains God was there also.

A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said, “I will have a camel for lunch today.”  And all morning he went about looking for camels.  But at noon he saw his shadow again—and he said, “A mouse will do.”

I have seen a face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a single countenance as if held in a mould. I have seen a face whose sheen I could look through to the ugliness beneath, and a face whose sheen I had to lift to see how beautiful it was. I have seen an old face much lined with nothing, and a smooth face in which all things were graven. I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves, and behold the reality beneath.

Said the Eye one day, “I see beyond these valleys a mountain veiled with blue mist.  Is it not beautiful?” The Ear listened, and after listening intently awhile, said, “But where is any mountain?  I do not hear it.” Then the Hand spoke and said, “I am trying in vain to feel it or touch it, and I can find no mountain.” And the Nose said, “There is no mountain, I cannot smell it.” Then the Eye turned the other way, and they all began to talk together about the Eye’s strange delusion.  And they said, “Something must be the matter with the Eye.”

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness; You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs, And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory. Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance, Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot And not to be trapped by withering laurels. And in you I have found aloneness And the joy of being shunned and scorned. Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield, In your eyes I have read That to be enthroned is to be enslaved, And to be understood is to be leveled down, And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed. Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion, You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences, And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings, And urging of seas, And of mountains that burn in the night, And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul. Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage, You and I shall laugh together with the storm, And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, And we shall stand in the sun with a will, And we shall be dangerous.

I cried to men, “I would be crucified!” And they said, “Why should your blood be upon our heads?” And I answered, “How else shall you be exalted except by crucifying madmen?” And they heeded and I was crucified.  And the crucifixion appeased me. And when I was hanged between earth and heaven they lifted up their heads to see me.  And they were exalted, for their heads had never before been lifted. But as they stood looking up at me one called out, “For what art thou seeking to atone?” And another cried, “In what cause dost thou sacrifice thyself?” And a third said, “Thinkest thou with this price to buy world glory?” Then said a fourth, “Behold, how he smiles!  Can such pain be forgiven?” And I answered them all, and said: “Remember only that I smiled.  I do not atone—nor sacrifice—nor wish for glory; and I have nothing to forgive.  I thirsted—and I besought you to give me my blood to drink.  For what is there can quench a madman’s thirst but his own blood?  I was dumb—and I asked wounds of you for mouths.  I was imprisoned in your days and nights—and I sought a door into larger days and nights. And now I go—as others already crucified have gone.  And think not we are weary of crucifixion.  For we must be crucified by larger and yet larger men, between greater earths and greater heavens.”