The Prophet

by Kahlil Gibran

Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling-place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving within your souls?

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

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.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

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 give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?

You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth. For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life’s procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.

You have been told also that life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary. And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge, And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge, And all knowledge is vain save when there is work, And all work is empty save when there is love; And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty. Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves. And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in the fullness of light? Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self, And that the cornerstone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation.

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 fulfilment. 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.

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.

For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.

Much of your pain is self-chosen.

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.”

If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.

For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.

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?

You are good when you strive to give of yourself. Yet you are not evil when you seek gain for yourself.

Oftentimes in denying yourself pleasure you do but store the desire in the recesses of your being.

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.

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

That whenever I come to the fountain to drink I find the living water itself thirsty; And it drinks me while I drink it.