Gibran Stories Omnibus

undiscerning is his path. It is the love
of a needy one, who picks crumbs even as he sits at kingly feasts. And
it is the love of a weakling, for the strong loves only the strong.”
      “And because I have loved you overmuch you have said, 'It is but the
love of a blind man who knows not the beauty of one nor the ugliness of
another. And it is the love of the tasteless who drinks vinegar even as
wine. And it is the love of the impertinent and the overweening, for
what stranger could be our mother and father and sister and brother?'
      “This you have said, and more. For often in the market-place you
pointed your fingers at me and said mockingly, 'There goes the ageless
one, the man without seasons, who at the noon hour plays games with our
children and at eventide sits with our elders and assumes wisdom and
understanding.'
      “And I said, 'I will love them more. Aye, even more. I will hide my
love with seeming to hate, and disguise my tenderness as bitterness. I
will wear an iron mask, and only when armed and mailed shall I seek
them.'
      “Then I laid a heavy hand upon your bruises, and like a tempest in
the night I thundered in your ears.
      “From the housetop I proclaimed you hypocrites, Pharisees,
tricksters, false and empty earth-bubbles.
      “The short-sighted among you I cursed for blind bats, and those too
near the earth I likened to soulless moles.
      “The eloquent I pronounced fork-tongued, the silent, stone-lipped,
and the simple and artless I called the dead never weary of death.
      “The seekers after world knowledge I condemned as offenders of the
holy spirit and those who would naught but the spirit I branded as
hunters of shadows who cast their nets in flat waters and catch but
their own images.
      “Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding
within me, called you tender names.
      “It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half
slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that
raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed
your forgiveness.
      “But behold a miracle!
      “It was my disguise that opened your eyes, and my seeming to hate
that woke your hearts.
      “And now you love me.
      “You love the swords that stroke you and the arrows that crave your
breast. For it comforts you to be wounded and only when you drink of
your own blood can you be intoxicated.
      “Like moths that seek destruction in the flame you gather daily in
my garden; and with faces uplifted and eyes enchanted you watch me tear
the fabric of your days. And in whispers you say the one to the other,
'He sees with the light of God. He speaks like the prophets of old. He
unveils our souls and unlocks our hearts, and like the eagle that knows
the way of foxes he knows our ways.'
      “Aye, in truth, I know your ways, but only as an eagle knows the
ways of his fledglings. And I fain would disclose my secret. Yet in my
need for your nearness I feign remoteness, and in fear of the ebb tide
of your love I guard the floodgates of my love.”
      After saying these things the forerunner covered his face with his
hands and wept bitterly. For he knew in his heart that love humiliated
in its nakedness is greater than love that seeks triumph in disguise;
and he was ashamed.
      But suddenly he raised his head, and like one waking from sleep he
outstretched his arms and said, “Night is over, and we children of
night must die when dawn comes leaping upon the hills; and out of our
ashes a mightier love shall rise. And it shall laugh in the sun, and it
shall be deathless.”
     



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The Earth Gods

Kahlil Gibran
         
     
     This page formatted 2005 Munsey's.
     
     
http://www.munseys.com
     
This eBook was produced by: Stuart kidd
Original file Courtesy of Kahlil Gibran Online—www.kahlil.org
     
     
     
     
     
When the night of the twelfth aeon fell,
     
And silence, the high tide of night, swallowed the hills,
     
The three earth-born gods, the Master Titans of life,
     
Appeared upon the mountains.
     
Rivers ran about their feet;
     
The mist floated across their breasts,
     
And their heads rose in majesty above the world.
     
Then they spoke, and like distant thunder
     
Their voices rolled over the