
For many the thought of their dying moment is a thought they rather not ponder. What is beyond what we know? Where does the person whom we knew so well with the personality, the gregarious laughter, the intimate tears, the maddening stubbornness, and the eyes of familiarity and comfort… where does that person gravitate? Is the answer within the simple biblical verse of ‘full knowledge knows no man for this knowledge is too great for man to accept‘? Often I have begged the Almighty..”Try me. Please, Lord, Try me”.
Kahlil Gibran was a typical Lebanese kid born to a poor family in the town of Bsharri. He rose to become one of the world’s most prophetic ‘inspirational fiction’ writers of this era. He was a gifted painter and sketch artist. When his father was arrested for gambling debts his mother moved with Kahlil and his siblings to Boston. Kahlil was a lover to Mary Haskall. Mary supported Kahlil through his growth in the arts but they were never able to be in matrimony due to her family’s conservative stupidity. His biography is really not that impressive. He was minimally educated and grew up in the typical teachings of Maronite Christianity. May I recommend you read some his stories? Kahlil Gibran may have led an ordinary immigrants life but make no mistake… he left this world a treasure.
The Prophet -by Kahlil Gibran
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
exert: For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from it restless tides so that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Of Gibran Claude Bragdon writes: “His power came from some great reservoir of spiritual life else it could not have been so universal and so potent, but the majesty and beauty of the language with which he clothed it were all his own.” – Claude Bragdon
On his tombstone he had written:
” I am alive like you, and I am standing beside you. Close your eyes and look around, you will see me in front of you.” -KG

Thanks for the inspiration Cayman Thorne



