The Prophet

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

Lately, I have been reading The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran over and over again. Mine is a small copy, small enough to fit in my pocket, and I find myself wanting to take it with me wherever I go. I am sure some of you have felt this way about your bibles.

"Of all the books of this author, The Prophet has perhaps the widest appeal. Because of its immense popularity since its publication in 1923, it is offered in this companionable format." (See? I'm not the only one who has felt like taking it everywhere with me! That is actually why it is available in a travel size!)

The Chicago Post said of it: "Truth is here; truth expressed with all the music and beauty and idealism of a Syrian untouched by the harshness of life. Cadenced and vibrant with feeling, the words of Kahlil Gibran bring to one's ears the majestic rhythm of Ecclesiastes..."


It probably won't surprise you that the chapter I have been reading over and over again is the one on Children.

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children. And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
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 may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

Oh, let my bending be for gladness!

Sincerely, The bow that is stable (usually)