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Of Words and Sword…. & Mad Men…..

April 12, 2013

Sometimes, straight to the heart of the matter, like a flaming arrow, or a gentle whisper, filled with urgency and longing, booming, gently, like waves, the plip-plop of water on the lake of consciousness, tongues of flame burning un-forget-able nuances on the paper-stuff of the un-know-able that is our mind, glazing the clay-tablet of memory into a living thing, un-erase-able, funny that, living glazed clay, cuni-form triangles of arrow-headed simplicity, the heart of the mater, the heart of the matter, normalcy in shreds, the comfort-able fabric of our lives, with it’s warp and woof, or some say weft, cleft, right and left, asunder, woof woof, sun, dog, god, orion, something to cry on, eye-cleansing, tears, rips the mote of blindness from my i, my u, your us, common rail, diverging at infinity, parallel lives, inter-secting, bi-sect-ual pri-mate, man, woman, being, static, like an electric top, sometimes a bottom, spinning, shock-ing, un-lock-ing, deep recesses…..

how i felt…. when i read this: Khalil Gibran by way of my dear friend, One-ness

“God of lost souls, thou who art lost amongst the gods, hear me:
Gentle Destiny that watchest over us, mad, wandering spirits, hear me:
I dwell in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.


I, a human chaos, a nebula of confused elements, I move amongst finished worlds-
peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose thoughts are assorted,
whose dreams are arranged, and whose visions are enrolled and registered.
Their virtues, O God, are measured, their sins are weighed, and even the countless
things that pass in the dim twilight of neither sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.


Here days and nights are divided into seasons of
conduct and governed by rules of blameless accuracy.
To eat, to drink, to sleep, to cover one’s nudity, and then to be weary in due time.
To work, to play, to sing, to dance, and then to lie still when the clock strikes the hour.
To think thus, to feel thus much, and then to cease thinking and feeling when a
certain star rises above yonder horizon.


To rob a neighbor with a smile, to bestow gifts with a graceful wave of
the hand, to praise prudently, to blame cautiously, to destroy a soul with a word,
to burn a body with a breath, and then to wash the hands when the day’s work is done.


To love according to an established order, to entertain one’s best self in a
pre-conceived manner, to worship the gods becomingly, to intrigue the
devils artfully – and then to forget all as though memory were dead.


To fancy with a motive, to contemplate with consideration, to be happy sweetly,
to suffer nobly – and then to empty the cup so that tomorrow may fill it again.


All these things, O God, are conceived with forethought, born with determination,
nursed with exactness, governed by rules, directed by reason, and then slain
and buried after a prescribed method. And even their silent graves that lie
within the human soul are marked and numbered.


It is a perfect world, a world of consummate excellence, a world of supreme wonders,
the ripest fruit in God’s garden, the master-thought of the universe.


But why should I be here, O God, I a green seed of unfulfilled passion, a mad tempest
that seeketh neither east nor west, a bewildered fragment from a burnt planet?
Why am I here, O God of lost souls, thou who art lost amongst the gods?”

– Kahlil Gibran, “The Perfect World,” from “The Madman”

with abandon….

step into the light… 😉

stepping into the light


12 Comments leave one →
  1. dublinmick permalink
    April 12, 2013 11:20 pm

    It is no accident I have always had a link to Gibran ever since I have ever had a blog. He is the best there ever was. His writings are much more than prose and reveal a profound knowledge of the universe. Compared to others who write prose, he is a giant among midgets. The subjects he encompasses truly span the gamut of human intellect.

    This is the link I keep on the blog.

  2. dublinmick permalink
    April 13, 2013 5:16 am

    What do you seek, my countrymen?
    Do you desire that I build for
    You gorgeous palaces, decorated
    With words of empty meaning, or
    Temples roofed with dreams? Or
    Do you command me to destroy what
    The liars and tyrants have built?
    Shall I uproot with my fingers
    What the hypocrites and the wicked
    Have implanted? Speak your insane
    What is it you would have me do,
    My countrymen? Shall I purr like
    The kitten to satisfy you, or roar
    Like the lion to please myself? I
    Have sung for you, but you did not
    Dance; I have wept before you, but
    You did not cry. Shall I sing and
    Weep at the same time?
    Your souls are suffering the pangs
    Of hunger, and yet the fruit of
    Knowledge is more plentiful than
    The stones of the valleys.
    Your hearts are withering from
    Thirst, and yet the springs of
    Life are streaming about your
    Homes — why do you not drink?
    The sea has its ebb and flow,
    The moon has its fullness and
    Crescents, and the ages have
    Their winter and summer, and all
    Things vary like the shadow of
    An unborn god moving between
    Earth and sun, but truth cannot
    Be changed, nor will it pass away;
    Why, then, do you endeavour to
    Disfigure its countenance?
    I have called you in the silence
    Of the night to point out the
    Glory of the moon and the dignity
    Of the stars, but you startled
    From your slumber and clutched
    Your swords in fear, crying,
    “Where is the enemy? We must kill
    Him first!” At morningtide, when
    The enemy came, I called to you
    Again, but now you did not wake
    From your slumber, for you were
    Locked in fear, wrestling with
    The processions of spectres in
    Your dreams.
    And I said unto you, “Let us climb
    To the mountain top and view the
    Beauty of the world.” And you
    Answered me, saying, “In the depths
    Of this valley our fathers lived,
    And in its shadows they died, and in
    Its caves they were buried. How can
    We depart this place for one which
    They failed to honour?”
    And I said unto you, “Let us go to
    The plain that gives its bounty to
    The sea.” And you spoke timidly to
    Me, saying, “The uproar of the abyss
    Will frighten our spirits, and the
    Terror of the depths will deaden
    Our bodies.”
    I have loved you, my countrymen, but
    My love for you is painful to me
    And useless to you; and today I
    Hate you, and hatred is a flood
    That sweeps away the dry branches
    And quavering houses.
    I have pitied your weakness, my
    Countrymen, but my pity has but
    Increased your feebleness, exalting
    And nourishing slothfulness which
    Is vain to life. And today I see
    Your infirmity which my soul loathes
    And fears.
    I have cried over your humiliation
    And submission, and my tears streamed
    Like crystalline, but could not sear
    Away your stagnant weakness; yet they
    Removed the veil from my eyes.
    My tears have never reached your
    Petrified hearts, but they cleansed
    The darkness from my inner self.
    Today I am mocking at your suffering,
    For laughter is a raging thunder that
    Precedes the tempest and never comes
    After it.
    What do you desire, my countrymen?
    Do you wish for me to show you
    The ghost of your countenance on
    The face of still water? Come,
    Now, and see how ugly you are!
    Look and meditate! Fear has
    Turned your hair grey as the
    Ashes, and dissipation has grown
    Over your eyes and made them into
    Obscured hollows, and cowardice
    Has touched your cheeks that now
    Appear as dismal pits in the
    Valley, and death has kissed
    Your lips and left them yellow
    As the autumn leaves.
    What is it that you seek, my
    Countrymen? What ask you from
    Life, who does not any longer
    Count you among her children?
    Your souls are freezing in the
    Clutches of the priests and
    Sorcerers, and your bodies
    Tremble between the paws of the
    Despots and the shedders of
    Blood, and your country quakes
    Under the marching feet of the
    Conquering enemy; what may you
    Expect even though you stand
    Proudly before the face of the
    Sun? Your swords are sheathed
    With rust, and your spears are
    Broken, and your shields are
    Laden with gaps, why, then, do
    You stand in the field of battle?
    Hypocrisy is your religion, and
    Falsehood is your life, and
    Nothingness is your ending; why,
    Then, are you living? Is not
    Death the sole comfort of the
    Life is a resolution that
    Accompanies youth, and a diligence
    That follows maturity, and a
    Wisdom that pursues senility; but
    You, my countrymen, were born old
    And weak. And your skins withered
    And your heads shrank, whereupon
    You become as children, running
    Into the mire and casting stones
    Upon each other.
    Knowledge is a light, enriching
    The warmth of life, and all may
    Partake who seek it out; but you,
    My countrymen, seek out darkness
    And flee the light, awaiting the
    Coming of water from the rock,
    And your nation’s misery is your
    Crime. I do not forgive you
    Your sins, for you know what you
    Are doing.
    Humanity is a brilliant river
    Singing its way and carrying with
    It the mountains’ secrets into
    The heart of the sea; but you,
    My countrymen, are stagnant
    Marshes infested with insects
    And vipers.
    The spirit is a sacred blue
    Torch, burning and devouring
    The dry plants, and growing
    With the storm and illuminating
    The faces of the goddesses; but
    You, my countrymen, your souls
    Are like ashes which the winds
    Scatter upon the snow, and which
    The tempests disperse forever in
    The valleys.
    Fear not the phantom of death,
    My countrymen, for his greatness
    And mercy will refuse to approach
    Your smallness; and dread not the
    Dagger, for it will decline to be
    Lodged in your shallow hearts.
    I hate you, my countrymen, because
    You hate glory and greatness. I
    Despise you because you despise
    Yourselves. I am your enemy, for
    You refuse to realize that you are
    The enemies of the goddesses.

  3. dublinmick permalink
    April 13, 2013 5:28 am

    Kahlil Gibran on Love

    When love beckons to you, follow him,
    Though his ways are hard and steep.
    And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
    Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
    And when he speaks to you believe in him,
    Though his voice may shatter your dreams
    as the north wind lays waste the garden.

    For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
    Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
    So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

    Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
    He threshes you to make you naked.
    He sifts you to free you from your husks.
    He grinds you to whiteness.
    He kneads you until you are pliant;
    And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

    All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

    But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
    Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
    Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
    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.

    When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
    And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

    Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
    But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
    To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
    To know the pain of too much tenderness.
    To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
    And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
    To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
    To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
    To return home at eventide with gratitude;
    And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

  4. dublinmick permalink
    April 13, 2013 6:10 am

    It is impossible to list the many inspiring tracts of such a genius.

    Was it a coward who shook His hand in the face of the authorities and pronounced them “liars, low, filthy, and degenerate” ?
    Shall a man bold enough to say these things to those who ruled Judea be deemed meek and humble?
    Nay. The eagle builds not his nest in the weeping willow. And the lion seeks not his den among the ferns.
    I am sickened and the bowels within me stir and rise when I hear the faint-hearted call Jesus humble and meek, that they may justify their own faint-heartedness; and when the downtrodden, for comfort and companionship, speak of Jesus as a worm shining by their side.
    Yea, my heart is sickened by such men. It is the mighty hunter I would preach, and the mountainous spirit unconquerable.

  5. dublinmick permalink
    April 13, 2013 6:35 am

    The God separated a spirit from Himself and fashioned it into Beauty. He showered upon her all the blessings of gracefulness and kindness. He gave her the cup of happiness and said, “Drink not from this cup unless you forget the past and the future, for happiness is naught but the moment.” And He also gave her a cup of sorrow and said, “Drink from this cup and you will understand the meaning of the fleeting instants of the joy of life, for sorrow ever abounds.”

    And the God bestowed upon her a love that would desert he forever upon her first sigh of earthly satisfaction, and a sweetness that would vanish with her first awareness of flattery.

    And He gave her wisdom from heaven to lead to the all-righteous path, and placed in the depth of her heart and eye that sees the unseen, and created in he an affection and goodness toward all things. He dressed her with raiment of hopes spun by the angels of heaven from the sinews of the rainbow. And He cloaked her in the shadow of confusion, which is the dawn of life and light.

    Then the God took consuming fire from the furnace of anger, and searing wind from the desert of ignorance, and sharp- cutting sands from the shore of selfishness, and coarse earth from under the feet of ages, and combined them all and fashioned Man. He gave to Man a blind power that rages and drives him into a madness which extinguishes only before gratification of desire, and placed life in him which is the specter of death.

    And the god laughed and cried. He felt an overwhelming love and pity for Man, and sheltered him beneath His guidance.

    • April 13, 2013 4:11 pm

      Dub, thanks for sharing all those amazing pieces from KG. he was quite the man with words and feelings and passions…

  6. April 13, 2013 1:35 pm

    Many many many years ago I was introduced to Khalil Gibran and I still read and reread the books I bought upon recommendation. Thank you, Dear Vivek for introducing me to such an inspiriting spiritual leader.

    • April 13, 2013 4:12 pm

      hmmm….very to the core writing, time-less, and this one in particular, I felt was a call to all of us who feel dis-associated with normalcy 🙂

  7. Kapnos permalink
    April 14, 2013 1:46 am

    So glad to find fellow Gibran lovers here! A few years of my life were spent in turning and unturning the Gibran pages, sleep with Gibran books and yet know him only in his abstraction. He still lives through my books and saves my life, sometimes.

  8. Dublinmick permalink
    April 14, 2013 5:12 am

    There is nothing he wrote that is not praise worth. Some of my favorites were father Samaan and satan called secrets of the heart.

    Reading Gibran is like sound bites from the universal mind, which incidentally I am sure it was. Some of his quotes are all time favorites such as. The Prophet as far as books sold is now second only to the bible.

    The angels have grown tired of the clever

    Strive to become a spirit so large you can use the milky way as a foot stool

    And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance

    If you wish to see the valleys, climb to the mountain top; if you desire to see the mountain top, rise into the cloud; but if you seek to understand the cloud, close your eyes and think.

    You know Vivek, sometimes when I get the feeling there is nothing else to be said, I just post a Gibran poem!

    I have his biography, in Lebanon he was called the little king when a child. Anyway in the book it speaks of a time when his inner voice relayed to him, or called him the “son of man”, he relayed later that he was very shaken by this.

  9. April 12, 2014 6:47 pm

    Reblogged this on SyesWideShut.


  1. Kahlil Gibran (My Countryman) | Here Comes The Sun

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