It hasn’t been that long since Kahlil (or Khalil) Gibran has began to fascinate me. In fact, it just been a year if I’m counting right. Reading his poems and proses always manage to put me in a state-of-mind which is kind of hard of explain. Sometimes when am home with nothing much to do and sick of flipping the channels in a futile hope to find something worthy of watching…I find myself going towards my bookshelf. I’ve always been able to find solace in a good book and great music. Often times they have been the only best friend I needed/need.
So when am home and I don’t want to browse the internet or read yet another suspense/thriller or a famous fiction but something that will help me open up my mind and make me THINK…I grab a book by Gibran. This man is extra ordinary in his unique style of writing. He takes simple words and turn them into delicate yet deep, sometimes intricate poetry and prose. The way he writes about love and the feelings of being in love….one can’t easily find these kind of thing in today’s world. His writings also include topics related to family, friends, religion and grief.
I’d like to share such a piece of Gibran’s writing with you. I remember reading it for the very first time and realizing just how TRUE these words are and how often they are ignored. It is from his famous book called “The Prophet”. The book consists of different short chapters on topics such as Love, Marriage, Family, Friendship, Giving, Joy and Sorrow, Reason and Passion and even Law and Freedom. This specific piece focuses on children.
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 came 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 can not 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.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of
the infinite, and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Beautiful and thought-provoking, is it not?
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