I'm about climbing the walls with it getting dark so early and having so little time outdoors most days.
I'm so bored I'm actually cooking!
And I'm reading some, which is nice to have the time for again. This evening I re-read my tattered copy of Khalil Gibran's The Prophet... which I first read back in high school. There's an essay of his about gardening that I've been searching for, and haven't yet found, but I did come across this beautiful poem by him online and thought I'd share it...
The strong shore is my beloved
And I am his sweetheart.
We are at last united by love, and
Then the moon draws me from him.
I go to him in haste and depart
Reluctantly, with many
I steal swiftly from behind the
Blue horizon to cast the silver of
My foam upon the gold of his sand, and
We blend in melted brilliance.
I quench his thirst and submerge his
Heart; he softens my voice and subdues
At dawn I recite the rules of love upon
His ears, and he embraces me longingly.
At eventide I sing to him the song of
Hope, and then print smooth hisses upon
His face; I am swift and fearful, but he
Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. His
Broad bosom soothes my restlessness.
As the tide comes we caress each other,
When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in
Many times have I danced around mermaids
As they rose from the depths and rested
Upon my crest to watch the stars;
Many times have I heard lovers complain
Of their smallness, and I helped them to sigh.
Many times have I teased the great rocks
And fondled them with a smile, but never
Have I received laughter from them;
Many times have I lifted drowning souls
And carried them tenderly to my beloved
Shore. He gives them strength as he
Many times have I stolen gems from the
Depths and presented them to my beloved
Shore. He takes them in silence, but still
I give fro he welcomes me ever.
In the heaviness of night, when all
Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I
Sit up, singing at one time and sighing
At another. I am awake always.
Alas! Sleeplessness has weakened me!
But I am a lover, and the truth of love
I may be weary, but I shall never die.
There's something that happens about midway through this poem that causes me to laugh quietly... I'm not really sure what it is, but I love the smile it brings to my face.
a return Visit
3 years ago