Seer

Author: Kahlil Gibran (Lebanon)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: The Dawn of the Modern Age, the Chosen and Beloved Amestha, who waited twelve years in Alphariz for his ship to arrive and take him back to his birth island. On the seventh day of the month of Qirwah in the twelfth year, he left the city and climbed to the mountain top, gazing at the sea, where he saw his ship sailing towards him from the mist. His heart opened with a sudden joy, and his delight soared over the sea. They prayed in the solemnity of their souls. But as he descended the mountain, a sudden sorrow struck him, and he thought: How can I walk away so peacefully without some grief? No, I must leave this city without being wounded in spirit. In this city, I have spent long days and nights of suffering and solitude: Who can abandon this pain and solitude without some regret? On this street, I have scattered too many fragments of my spirit, and in this mountain, there are too many children I have cherished, walking barefoot, whom I cannot leave without feeling a burden and sorrow. This is not like shedding a piece of clothing today; it is like tearing off a piece of my own skin with my own hands. It is not like abandoning an idea; it is like abandoning a sweet heart made of hunger and thirst. Yet, I cannot linger any longer. The great sea that calls all things to return is calling me too; I must board the ship. For if I stay, my longing to return, though still burning fiercely at night, will gradually turn cold and harden like stone. If I could take everything here with me, how happy I would be! But how can I? The voice cannot take away the tongue and lips that have been given wings. He must seek "ether" for himself. The eagle must also leave its nest and fly alone across the sun. Now he has reached the foot of the mountain and turned toward the sea, where he saw his ship slowly entering the bay. The sailors at the bow of the ship were his fellow countrymen. Then, his soul called out to them, saying: O masters of the waves, children of my old mother, how many times have you floated in my dreams. Now you are in my deeper dreams. You have come when I am waking. I am ready to leave. My desire and my sails are fully set, waiting for the wind. I just want to take one more breath in this still air. I just want to cast one last glance of love. Then I will stand among you, a sailor among sailors. And you, this boundless sea. Sleepless mother, only you are the peace and freedom of rivers and streams. This stream has only one more turn, one more murmur in the forest. Then I will come to you, countless drops returning to the boundless ocean. As he walked, he saw many men and women leaving their fields and rushing to the city. He heard them calling his name in the fields, reporting his ship's arrival. He said to himself: Can the days of separation become days of gathering? Is my evening truly my dawn? Those who have laid down their plows and stopped the winepresses. What can I give them? Can my heart become a tree full of fruits, from which they can gather and share? Can my desires flow like springs, filling their cups? Am I a that a powerful hand can play, or a that a powerful one can blow? Am I a silent seeker who has found treasure in silence, which I can confidently distribute? If this is the day of my harvest, when and where have I ever sown seeds? P3-5