Gibran Stories Omnibus

walked away curing the stupidity of man.

DEFEAT
         
      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 levelled 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 an 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.

NIGHT AND THE MADMAN
         
      “I am like thee, O, Night, dark and naked; I walk on the flaming
path which is above my day-dreams, and whenever my foot touches earth a
giant oak tree comes forth.”
      “Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman, for thou still lookest
backward to see how large a foot-print thou leavest on the sand.”
      “I am like thee, O, Night, silent and deep; and in the heart of my
loneliness lies a Goddess in child-bed; and in him who is being born
Heaven touches Hell.”
      “Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman, for thou shudderest yet
before pain, and the song of the abyss terrifies thee.”
      “I am like thee, O, Night, wild and terrible; for my ears are
crowded with cries of conquered nations and sighs for forgotten lands.”
      “Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman, for thou still takest thy
little-self for a comrade, and with thy monster-self thou canst not be
friend.”
      “I am like thee, O, Night, cruel and awful; for my bosom is lit by
burning ships at sea, and my lips are wet with blood of slain
warriors.”
      “Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman; for the desire for a
sister-spirit is yet upon thee, and thou has not become a low unto
thyself.”
      “I am like thee, O, Night, joyous and glad; for he who dwells in my
shadow is now drunk with virgin wine, and she who follows me is sinning
mirthfully.”
      “Nay, thou art not like me, O, Madman, for thy soul is wrapped in
the veil of seven folds and thou holdest not they heart in Thine hand.”
      “I am like thee, O, Night, patient and passionate; for in my breast
a thousand dead lovers are buried in shrouds of withered kisses.”
      “Yea, Madman, art thou like me? Art thou like me? And canst thou
ride the tempest as a steed, and grasp the lightning as a sword?”
      “Like thee, O, Night, like thee, mighty and high, and my throne is
built upon heaps of fallen Gods; and before me too pass the days to
kiss the hem of my garment but never to gaze at my face.”
      “Art thou like me, child of my darkest heart? And dost thou think my
untamed thoughts and speak my vast language?”
      “Yea, we are twin brothers, O, Night; for thou revealest space and I
reveal my soul.”

FACES
         
      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.

THE GREATER SEA
         
      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