{"collection":"ritual-magic","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54580/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54580","id":"gutenberg_54580","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54580","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Poetry","Mysticism -- Poetry","Parables"],"text":"THE FORERUNNER\n                        HIS PARABLES AND POEMS\n\n\n\n\n              BOOKS BY KAHLIL GIBRAN\n\n    \u201c_He is the William Blake of the twentieth century._\u201d\n                --_AUGUSTE RODIN._\n\n\n_THE MADMAN (1918)_\n\n[_With three original drawings by the author._]\n\n\u201cHis is an irresistible vigor and clarity of thought and feeling,\ntogether with a power of simple picturing, which makes it unforgettable.\nIt is the voice and genius of the Arabic people.\u201d--_The New York Evening\nPost._\n\n\u201cNever have I read anything like it, never has a little book brought me\nso deep and passionate a pleasure. He has breathed the spirit of the\nEast on our cold and indifferent souls; and I, for one, feel almost as\nif I had been suffocated by the breath of an intense beauty.\u201d--_The\nLiberator._\n\n\n_TWENTY DRAWINGS (1919)_\n\n[_With an Introductory Essay by Alice Raphael._]\n\n\u201cIt is Rodin that comes instantly to mind as a comparison. He has sensed\na relation between man and the universe, and, with his astounding\ntechnique, is able to make us sense it too. Mr. Knopf is entitled to our\ngratitude.\u201d--_Detroit Journal._\n\n\n_These may be had at all bookshops or from the publisher_\n\n                            ALFRED A. KNOPF\n                     220 WEST FORTY-SECOND STREET\n                               NEW YORK\n\n            [Illustration: drawing signed K. Gibran, 1920]\n\n\n\n\n                          \u00b7 THE FORERUNNER \u00b7\n                        HIS PARABLES AND POEMS\n\n                                  BY\n                             KAHLIL GIBRAN\n\n                       [Illustration: colophon]\n\n             NEW YORK       ALFRED \u00b7 A \u00b7 KNOPF      MCMXX\n\n                          COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY\n                             KAHLIL GIBRAN\n\n                PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nGOD\u2019S FOOL  9\n\nLOVE 15\n\nTHE KING-HERMIT 17\n\nTHE LION\u2019S DAUGHTER 22\n\nTYRANNY 26\n\nTHE SAINT 27\n\nTHE PLUTOCRAT 29\n\nTHE GREATER SELF 30\n\nWAR AND THE SMALL NATIONS 32\n\nCRITICS 33\n\nPOETS 35\n\nTHE WEATHER-COCK 37\n\nTHE KING OF ARADUS 38\n\nOUT OF MY DEEPER HEART 39\n\nDYNASTIES 41\n\nKNOWLEDGE AND HALF-KNOWLEDGE 44\n\n\u201cSAID A SHEET OF SNOW-WHITE PAPER....\u201d 46\n\nTHE SCHOLAR AND THE POET 47\n\nVALUES 50\n\nOTHER SEAS 51\n\nREPENTANCE 52\n\nTHE DYING MAN AND THE VULTURE 53\n\nBEYOND MY SOLITUDE 55\n\nTHE LAST WATCH 57\n\n\n     THE FIVE ILLUSTRATIONS\n     IN THIS VOLUME ARE RE-\n     PRODUCED FROM ORIGINAL\n     DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR\n\n\nYou are your own forerunner, and the towers you have builded are but the\nfoundation of your giant-self. And that self too shall be a foundation.\n\nAnd I too am my own forerunner, for the long shadow stretching before me\nat sunrise shall gather under my feet at the noon hour. Yet another\nsunrise shall lay another shadow before me, and that also shall be\ngathered at another noon.\n\nAlways have we been our own forerunners, and always shall we be. And all\nthat we have gathered and shall gather shall be but seeds for fields yet\nunploughed. We are the fields and the ploughmen, the gatherers and the\ngathered.\n\nWhen you were a wandering desire in the mist, I too was there, a\nwandering desire. Then we sought one another, and out of our eagerness\ndreams were born. And dreams were time limitless, and dreams were space\nwithout measure.\n\nAnd when you were a silent word upon Life\u2019s quivering lips, I too was\nthere, another silent word. Then Life uttered us and we came down the\nyears throbbing with memories of yesterday and with longing for\ntomorrow, for yesterday was death conquered and tomorrow was birth\npursued.\n\nAnd now we are in God\u2019s hands. You are a sun in His right hand and I an\nearth in His left hand. Yet you are not more, shining, than I, shone\nupon.\n\nAnd we, sun and earth, are but the beginning of a greater sun and a\ngreater earth. And always shall we be the beginning.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYou are your own forerunner, you the stranger passing by the gate of my\ngarden.\n\nAnd I too am my own forerunner, though I sit in the shadows of my trees\nand seem motionless.\n\n\n\n\nGOD\u2019S FOOL\n\n\nOnce there came from the desert to the great city of Sharia a man who\nwas a dreamer, and he had naught but his garment and a staff.\n\nAnd as he walked through the streets he gazed with awe and wonder at the\ntemples and towers and palaces, for the city of Sharia was of surpassing\nbeauty. And he spoke often to the passersby, questioning them about\ntheir city--but they understood not his language, nor he their language.\n\nAt the noon hour he stopped before a vast inn. It was built of yellow\nmarble, and people were going in and coming out unhindered.\n\n\u201cThis must be a shrine,\u201d he said to himself, and he too went in. But\nwhat was his surprise to find himself in a hall of great splendour and\na large company of men and women seated about many tables. They were\neating and drinking and listening to the musicians.\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said the dreamer. \u201cThis is no worshipping. It must be a feast\ngiven by the prince to the people, in celebration of a great event.\u201d\n\nAt that moment a man, whom he took to be the slave of the prince,\napproached him, and bade him be seated. And he was served with meat and\nwine and most excellent sweets.\n\nWhen he was satisfied, the dreamer rose to depart. At the door he was\nstopped by a large man magnificently arrayed.\n\n\u201cSurely this is the prince himself,\u201d said the dreamer in his heart, and\nhe bowed to him and thanked him.\n\nThen the large man said in the language of the city:\n\n\u201cSir, you have not paid for your dinner.\u201d And the dreamer did not\nunderstand, and again thanked him heartily. Then the large man bethought\nhim, and he looked more closely upon the dreamer. And he saw that he was\na stranger, clad in but a poor garment, and that indeed he had not\nwherewith to pay for his meal. Then the large man clapped his hands and\ncalled--and there came four watchmen of the city. And they listened to\nthe large man. Then they took the dreamer between them, and they were\ntwo on each side of him. And the dreamer noted the ceremoniousness of\ntheir dress and of their manner and he looked upon them with delight.\n\n\u201cThese,\u201d said he, \u201care men of distinction.\u201d\n\nAnd they walked all together until they came to the House of Judgment\nand they entered.\n\nThe dreamer saw before him, seated upon a throne, a venerable man with\nflowing beard, robed majestically. And he thought he was the king. And\nhe rejoiced to be brought before him.\n\nNow the watchmen related to the judge, who was the venerable man, the\ncharge against the dreamer; and the judge appointed two advocates, one\nto present the charge and the other to defend the stranger. And the\nadvocates rose, the one after the other, and delivered each his\nargument. And the dreamer thought himself to be listening to addresses\nof welcome, and his heart filled with gratitude to the king and the\nprince for all that was done for him.\n\nThen sentence was passed upon the dreamer, that upon a tablet hung about\nhis neck his crime should be written, and that he should ride through\nthe city on a naked horse, with a trumpeter and a drummer before him.\nAnd the sentence was carried out forthwith.\n\nNow as the dreamer rode through the city upon the naked horse, with the\ntrumpeter and the drummer before him, the inhabitants of the city came\nrunning forth at the sound of the noise, and when they saw him they\nlaughed one and all, and the children ran after him in companies from\nstreet to street. And the dreamer\u2019s heart was filled with ecstasy, and\nhis eyes shone upon them. For to him the tablet was a sign of the king\u2019s\nblessing and the procession was in his honour.\n\nNow as he rode, he saw among the crowd a man who was from the desert\nlike himself and his heart swelled with joy, and he cried out to him\nwith a shout:\n\n\u201cFriend! Friend! Where are we? What city of the heart\u2019s desire is this?\nWhat race of lavish hosts?--who feast the chance guest in their palaces,\nwhose princes companion him, whose king hangs a token upon his breast\nand opens to him the hospitality of a city descended from heaven.\u201d\n\nAnd he who was also of the desert replied not. He only smiled and\nslightly shook his head. And the procession passed on.\n\nAnd the dreamer\u2019s face was uplifted and his eyes were overflowing with\nlight.\n\n\n\n\nLOVE\n\n\n    They say the jackal and the mole\n    Drink from the self-same stream\n    Where the lion comes to drink.\n\n    And they say the eagle and the vulture\n    Dig their beaks into the same carcass,\n    And are at peace, one with the other,\n    In the presence of the dead thing.\n\n    O love, whose lordly hand\n    Has bridled my desires,\n    And raised my hunger and my thirst\n    To dignity and pride,\n    Let not the strong in me and the constant\n    Eat the bread or drink the wine\n    That tempt my weaker self.\n    Let me rather starve,\n    And let my heart parch with thirst,\n    And let me die and perish,\n    Ere I stretch my hand\n    To a cup you did not fill,\n    Or a bowl you did not bless.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING-HERMIT\n\n\nThey told me that in a forest among the mountains lives a young man in\nsolitude who once was a king of a vast country beyond the Two Rivers.\nAnd they also said that he, of his own will, had left his throne and the\nland of his glory and come to dwell in the wilderness.\n\nAnd I said, \u201cI would seek that man, and learn the secret of his heart;\nfor he who renounces a kingdom must needs be greater than a kingdom.\u201d\n\nOn that very day I went to the forest where he dwells. And I found him\nsitting under a white cypress, and in his hand a reed as if it were a\nsceptre. And I greeted him even as I would greet a king.\n\nAnd he turned to me and said gently, \u201cWhat would you in this forest of\nserenity? Seek you a lost self in the green shadows, or is it a\nhome-coming in your twilight?\u201d\n\nAnd I answered, \u201cI sought but you--for I fain would know that which made\nyou leave a kingdom for a forest.\u201d\n\nAnd he said, \u201cBrief is my story, for sudden was the bursting of the\nbubble. It happened thus: One day as I sat at a window in my palace, my\nchamberlain and an envoy from a foreign land were walking in my garden.\nAnd as they approached my window, the lord chamberlain was speaking of\nhimself and saying, \u2018I am like the king; I have a thirst for strong wine\nand a hunger for all games of chance. And like my lord the king I have\nstorms of temper.\u2019 And the lord chamberlain and the envoy disappeared\namong the trees. But in a few minutes they returned, and this time the\nlord chamberlain was speaking of me, and he was saying, \u2018My lord the\nking is like myself--a good marksman; and like me he loves music and\nbathes thrice a day.\u2019\u201d\n\nAfter a moment he added, \u201cOn the eve of that day I left my palace with\nbut my garment, for I would no longer be ruler over those who assume my\nvices and attribute to me their virtues.\u201d\n\nAnd I said, \u201cThis is indeed a wonder, and passing strange.\u201d\n\nAnd he said, \u201cNay, my friend, you knocked at the gate of my silences and\nreceived but a trifle. For who would not leave a kingdom for a forest\nwhere the seasons sing and dance ceaselessly? Many are those who have\ngiven their kingdom for less than solitude and the sweet fellowship of\naloneness. Countless are the eagles who descend from the upper air to\nlive with moles that they may know the secrets of the earth. There are\nthose who renounce the kingdom of dreams that they may not seem distant\nfrom the dreamless. And those who renounce the kingdom of nakedness and\ncover their souls that others may not be ashamed in beholding truth\nuncovered and beauty unveiled. And greater yet than all of these is he\nwho renounces the kingdom of sorrow that he may not seem proud and\nvainglorious.\u201d\n\nThen rising he leaned upon his reed and said, \u201cGo now to the great city\nand sit at its gate and watch all those who enter into it and those who\ngo out. And see that you find him who, though born a king, is without\nkingdom; and him who though ruled in flesh rules in spirit--though\nneither he nor his subjects know this; and him also who but seems to\nrule yet is in truth slave of his own slaves.\u201d\n\nAfter he had said these things he smiled on me, and there were a\nthousand dawns upon his lips. Then he turned and walked away into the\nheart of the forest.\n\nAnd I returned to the city, and I sat at its gate to watch the passersby\neven as he had told me. And from that day to this numberless are the\nkings whose shadows have passed over me and few are the subjects over\nwhom my shadow has passed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LION\u2019S DAUGHTER\n\n\nFour slaves stood fanning an old queen who was asleep upon her throne.\nAnd she was snoring. And upon the queen\u2019s lap a cat lay purring and\ngazing lazily at the slaves.\n\nThe first slave spoke, and said, \u201cHow ugly this old woman is in her\nsleep. See her mouth droop; and she breathes as if the devil were\nchoking her.\u201d\n\n_Then the cat said, purring, \u201cNot half so ugly in her sleep as you in\nyour waking slavery.\u201d_\n\nAnd the second slave said, \u201cYou would think sleep would smooth her\nwrinkles instead of deepening them. She must be dreaming of something\nevil.\u201d\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cWould that you_\n\n            [Illustration: drawing signed K. Gibran, 1920]\n\n_might sleep also and dream of your freedom.\u201d_\n\nAnd the third slave said, \u201cPerhaps she is seeing the procession of all\nthose that she has slain.\u201d\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cAye, she sees the procession of your forefathers\nand your descendants.\u201d_\n\nAnd the fourth slave said, \u201cIt is all very well to talk about her, but\nit does not make me less weary of standing and fanning.\u201d\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cYou shall be fanning to all eternity; for as it is\non earth so it is in heaven.\u201d_\n\nAt this moment the old queen nodded in her sleep, and her crown fell to\nthe floor.\n\nAnd one of the slaves said, \u201cThat is a bad omen.\u201d\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cThe bad omen of one is the good omen of another.\u201d_\n\nAnd the second slave said, \u201cWhat if she should wake, and find her crown\nfallen! She would surely slay us.\u201d\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cDaily from your birth she has slain you and you\nknow it not.\u201d_\n\nAnd the third slave said, \u201cYes, she would slay us and she would call it\nmaking sacrifice to the gods.\u201d\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cOnly the weak are sacrificed to the gods.\u201d_\n\nAnd the fourth slave silenced the others, and softly he picked up the\ncrown and replaced it, without waking her, on the old queen\u2019s head.\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cOnly a slave restores a crown that has fallen.\u201d_\n\nAnd after a while the old queen woke, and she looked about her and\nyawned. Then she said, \u201cMethought I dreamed, and I saw four caterpillars\nchased by a scorpion around the trunk of an ancient oaktree. I like not\nmy dream.\u201d\n\nThen she closed her eyes and went to sleep again. And she snored. And\nthe four slaves went on fanning her.\n\n_And the cat purred, \u201cFan on, fan on, stupids. You fan but the fire that\nconsumes you.\u201d_\n\n\n\n\nTYRANNY\n\n\nThus sings the She-Dragon that guards the seven caves by the sea:\n\n\u201cMy mate shall come riding on the waves. His thundering roar shall fill\nthe earth with fear, and the flames of his nostrils shall set the sky\nafire. At the eclipse of the moon we shall be wedded, and at the eclipse\nof the sun I shall give birth to a Saint George, who shall slay me.\u201d\n\nThus sings the She-Dragon that guards the seven caves by the sea.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SAINT\n\n\nIn my youth I once visited a saint in his silent grove beyond the hills;\nand as we were conversing upon the nature of virtue a brigand came\nlimping wearily up the ridge. When he reached the grove he knelt down\nbefore the saint and said, \u201cO saint, I would be comforted! My sins are\nheavy upon me.\u201d\n\nAnd the saint replied, \u201cMy sins, too, are heavy upon me.\u201d\n\nAnd the brigand said, \u201cBut I am a thief and a plunderer.\u201d\n\nAnd the saint replied, \u201cI too am a thief and a plunderer.\u201d\n\nAnd the brigand said, \u201cBut I am a murderer, and the blood of many men\ncries in my ears.\u201d\n\nAnd the saint replied, \u201cI too am a murderer, and in my ears cries the\nblood of many men.\u201d\n\nAnd the brigand said, \u201cI have committed countless crimes.\u201d\n\nAnd the saint replied, \u201cI too have committed crimes without number.\u201d\n\nThen the brigand stood up and gazed at the saint, and there was a\nstrange look in his eyes. And when he left us he went skipping down the\nhill.\n\nAnd I turned to the saint and said, \u201cWherefore did you accuse yourself\nof uncommitted crimes? See you not that this man went away no longer\nbelieving in you?\u201d\n\nAnd the saint answered, \u201cIt is true he no longer believes in me. But he\nwent away much comforted.\u201d\n\nAt that moment we heard the brigand singing in the distance, and the\necho of his song filled the valley with gladness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PLUTOCRAT\n\n\nIn my wanderings I once saw upon an island a man-headed, iron-hoofed\nmonster who ate of the earth and drank of the sea incessantly. And for a\nlong while I watched him. Then I approached him and said, \u201cHave you\nnever enough; is your hunger never satisfied and your thirst never\nquenched?\u201d\n\nAnd he answered saying, \u201cYes, I am satisfied, nay, I am weary of eating\nand drinking; but I am afraid that tomorrow there will be no more earth\nto eat and no more sea to drink.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREATER SELF\n\n\nThis came to pass. After the coronation of Nufsiba\u00e4l, King of Byblus, he\nretired to his bed chamber--the very room which the three\nhermit-magicians of the mountain had built for him. He took off his\ncrown and his royal raiment, and stood in the centre of the room\nthinking of himself, now the all-powerful ruler of Byblus.\n\nSuddenly he turned; and he saw stepping out of the silver mirror which\nhis mother had given him, a naked man.\n\nThe king was startled, and he cried out to the man, \u201cWhat would you?\u201d\n\nAnd the naked man answered, \u201cNaught but this: Why have they crowned you\nking?\u201d\n\nAnd the king answered, \u201cBecause I am the noblest man in the land.\u201d\n\nThen the naked man said, \u201cIf you were still more noble, you would not be\nking.\u201d\n\nAnd the king said, \u201cBecause I am the mightiest man in the land they\ncrowned me.\u201d\n\nAnd the naked man said, \u201cIf you were mightier yet, you would not be\nking.\u201d\n\nThen the king said, \u201cBecause I am the wisest man they crowned me king.\u201d\n\nAnd the naked man said, \u201cIf you were still wiser you would not choose to\nbe king.\u201d\n\nThen the king fell to the floor and wept bitterly.\n\nThe naked man looked down upon him. Then he took up the crown and with\ntenderness replaced it upon the king\u2019s bent head.\n\nAnd the naked man, gazing lovingly upon the king, entered into the\nmirror.\n\nAnd the king roused, and straightway he looked into the mirror. And he\nsaw there but himself crowned.\n\n\n\n\nWAR AND THE SMALL NATIONS\n\n\nOnce, high above a pasture, where a sheep and a lamb were grazing, an\neagle was circling and gazing hungrily down upon the lamb. And as he was\nabout to descend and seize his prey, another eagle appeared and hovered\nabove the sheep and her young with the same hungry intent. Then the two\nrivals began to fight filling the sky with their fierce cries.\n\nThe sheep looked up and was much astonished. She turned to the lamb and\nsaid,\n\n\u201cHow strange, my child, that these two noble birds should attack one\nanother. Is not the vast sky large enough for both of them? Pray, my\nlittle one, pray in your heart that God may make peace between your\nwinged brothers.\u201d\n\nAnd the lamb prayed in his heart.\n\n            [Illustration: drawing signed K. Gibran, 1920]\n\n\n\n\nCRITICS\n\n\nOne nightfall a man travelling on horseback toward the sea reached an\ninn by the roadside. He dismounted, and confident in man and night like\nall riders toward the sea, he tied his horse to a tree beside the door\nand entered into the inn.\n\nAt midnight, when all were asleep, a thief came and stole the\ntraveller\u2019s horse.\n\nIn the morning the man awoke, and discovered that his horse was stolen.\nAnd he grieved for his horse, and that a man had found it in his heart\nto steal.\n\nThen his fellow-lodgers came and stood around him and began to talk.\n\nAnd the first man said, \u201cHow foolish of you to tie your horse outside\nthe stable.\u201d\n\nAnd the second said, \u201cStill more foolish, without even hobbling the\nhorse!\u201d\n\nAnd the third man said, \u201cIt is stupid at best to travel to the sea on\nhorseback.\u201d\n\nAnd the fourth said, \u201cOnly the indolent and the slow of foot own\nhorses.\u201d\n\nThen the traveller was much astonished. At last he cried, \u201cMy friends,\nbecause my horse is stolen, you have hastened one and all to tell me my\nfaults and my shortcomings. But strange, not one word of reproach have\nyou uttered about the man who stole my horse.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPOETS\n\n\nFour poets were sitting around a bowl of punch that stood on a table.\n\nSaid the first poet, \u201cMethinks I see with my third eye the fragrance of\nthis wine hovering in space like a cloud of birds in an enchanted\nforest.\u201d\n\nThe second poet raised his head and said, \u201cWith my inner ear I can hear\nthose mist-birds singing. And the melody holds my heart as the white\nrose imprisons the bee within her petals.\u201d\n\nThe third poet closed his eyes and stretched his arm upward, and said,\n\u201cI touch them with my hand. I feel their wings, like the breath of a\nsleeping fairy, brushing against my fingers.\u201d\n\nThen the fourth poet rose and lifted up the bowl, and he said, \u201cAlas,\nfriends! I am too dull of sight and of hearing and of touch. I cannot\nsee the fragrance of this wine, nor hear its song, nor feel the beating\nof its wings. I perceive but the wine itself. Now therefore must I drink\nit, that it may sharpen my senses and raise me to your blissful\nheights.\u201d\n\nAnd putting the bowl to his lips, he drank the punch to the very last\ndrop.\n\nThe three poets, with their mouths open, looked at him aghast, and there\nwas a thirsty yet unlyrical hatred in their eyes.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WEATHER-COCK\n\n\nSaid the weather-cock to the wind, \u201cHow tedious and monotonous you are!\nCan you not blow any other way but in my face? You disturb my God-given\nstability.\u201d\n\nAnd the wind did not answer. It only laughed in space.\n\n\n\n\nTHE KING OF ARADUS\n\n\nOnce the elders of the city of Aradus presented themselves before the\nking, and besought of him a decree to forbid to men all wine and all\nintoxicants within their city.\n\nAnd the king turned his back upon them and went out from them laughing.\n\nThen the elders departed in dismay.\n\nAt the door of the palace they met the lord chamberlain. And the lord\nchamberlain observed that they were troubled, and he understood their\ncase.\n\nThen he said, \u201cPity, my friends! Had you found the king drunk, surely he\nwould have granted you your petition.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nOUT OF MY DEEPER HEART\n\n\nOut of my deeper heart a bird rose and flew skyward.\n\nHigher and higher did it rise, yet larger and larger did it grow.\n\nAt first it was but like a swallow, then a lark, then an eagle, then as\nvast as a spring cloud, and then it filled the starry heavens.\n\nOut of my heart a bird flew skyward. And it waxed larger as it flew. Yet\nit left not my heart.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nO my faith, my untamed knowledge, how shall I fly to your height and see\nwith you man\u2019s larger self pencilled upon the sky?\n\nHow shall I turn this sea within me into mist, and move with you in\nspace immeasurable?\n\nHow can a prisoner within the temple behold its golden domes?\n\nHow shall the heart of a fruit be stretched to envelop the fruit also?\n\nO my faith, I am in chains behind these bars of silver and ebony, and I\ncannot fly with you.\n\nYet out of my heart you rise skyward, and it is my heart that holds you,\nand I shall be content.\n\n            [Illustration: drawing signed K. Gibran, 1920]\n\n\n\n\nDYNASTIES\n\n\nThe Queen of Ishana was in travail of childbirth; and the King and the\nmighty men of his court were waiting in breathless anxiety in the great\nhall of the Winged Bulls.\n\nAt eventide there came suddenly a messenger in haste and prostrated\nhimself before the King, and said, \u201cI bring glad tidings unto my lord\nthe King, and unto the kingdom and the slaves of the King. Mihrab the\nCruel, thy life-long enemy, the King of Bethroun, is dead.\u201d\n\nWhen the King and the mighty men heard this, they all rose and shouted\nfor joy; for the powerful Mihrab, had he lived longer, had assuredly\novercome Ishana and carried the inhabitants captive.\n\nAt this moment the court physician also entered the hall of Winged\nBulls, and behind him came the royal midwives. And the physician\nprostrated himself before the king, and said, \u201cMy lord the King shall\nlive for ever, and through countless generations shall he rule over the\npeople of Ishana. For unto thee, O King, is born this very hour a son,\nwho shall be thy heir.\u201d\n\nThen indeed was the soul of the King intoxicated with joy, that in the\nsame moment his foe was dead and the royal line was established.\n\nNow in the City of Ishana lived a true prophet. And the prophet was\nyoung, and bold of spirit. And the King that very night ordered that the\nprophet should be brought before him. And when he was brought, the King\nsaid unto him, \u201cProphesy now, and foretell what shall be the future of\nmy son who is this day born unto the kingdom.\u201d\n\nAnd the prophet hesitated not, but said, \u201cHearken, O King, and I will\nindeed prophesy of the future of thy son, that is this day born. The\nsoul of thy enemy, even of thy enemy King Mihrab, who died yestereve,\nlingered but a day upon the wind. Then it sought for itself a body to\nenter into. And that which it entered into was the body of thy son that,\nis born unto thee this hour.\u201d\n\nThen the King was enraged, and with his sword he slew the prophet.\n\nAnd from that day to this, the wise men of Ishana say one to another\nsecretly, \u201cIs it not known, and has it not been said from of old, that\nIshana is ruled by an enemy.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nKNOWLEDGE AND HALF-KNOWLEDGE\n\n\nFour frogs sat upon a log that lay floating on the edge of a river.\nSuddenly the log was caught by the current and swept slowly down the\nstream. The frogs were delighted and absorbed, for never before had they\nsailed.\n\nAt length the first frog spoke, and said, \u201cThis is indeed a most\nmarvellous log. It moves as if alive. No such log was ever known\nbefore.\u201d\n\nThen the second frog spoke, and said, \u201cNay, my friend, the log is like\nother logs, and does not move. It is the river, that is walking to the\nsea, and carries us and the log with it.\u201d\n\nAnd the third frog spoke, and said, \u201cIt is neither the log nor the\nriver that moves. The moving is in our thinking. For without thought\nnothing moves.\u201d\n\nAnd the three frogs began to wrangle about what was really moving. The\nquarrel grew hotter and louder, but they could not agree.\n\nThen they turned to the fourth frog, who up to this time had been\nlistening attentively but holding his peace, and they asked his opinion.\n\nAnd the fourth frog said, \u201cEach of you is right, and none of you is\nwrong. The moving is in the log and the water and our thinking also.\u201d\n\nAnd the three frogs became very angry, for none of them was willing to\nadmit that his was not the whole truth, and that the other two were not\nwholly wrong.\n\nThen the strange thing happened. The three frogs got together and pushed\nthe fourth frog off the log into the river.\n\n\n\n\n\u201cSAID A SHEET OF SNOW-WHITE PAPER....\u201d\n\n\nSaid a sheet of snow-white paper, \u201cPure was I created, and pure will I\nremain for ever. I would rather be burnt and turn to white ashes than\nsuffer darkness to touch me or the unclean to come near me.\u201d\n\nThe ink-bottle heard what the paper was saying, and it laughed in its\ndark heart; but it never dared to approach her. And the multicoloured\npencils heard her also, and they too never came near her.\n\nAnd the snow-white sheet of paper did remain pure and chaste for\never--pure and chaste--and empty.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SCHOLAR AND THE POET\n\n\nSaid the serpent to the lark, \u201cThou flyest, yet thou canst not visit the\nrecesses of the earth where the sap of life moveth in perfect silence.\u201d\n\nAnd the lark answered, \u201cAye, thou knowest over much, nay thou art wiser\nthan all things wise--pity thou canst not fly.\u201d\n\nAnd as if he did not hear, the serpent said, \u201cThou canst not see the\nsecrets of the deep, nor move among the treasures of the hidden empire.\nIt was but yesterday I lay in a cave of rubies. It is like the heart of\na ripe pomegranate, and the faintest ray of light turns it into a\nflame-rose. Who but me can behold such marvels?\u201d\n\nAnd the lark said, \u201cNone, none but thee can lie among the crystal\nmemories of the cycles: pity thou canst not sing.\u201d\n\nAnd the serpent said, \u201cI know a plant whose root descends to the bowels\nof the earth, and he who eats of that root becomes fairer than\nAshtarte.\u201d\n\nAnd the lark said, \u201cNo one, no one but thee could unveil the magic\nthought of the earth--pity thou canst not fly.\u201d\n\nAnd the serpent said, \u201cThere is a purple stream that runneth under a\nmountain, and he who drinketh of it shall become immortal even as the\ngods. Surely no bird or beast can discover that purple stream.\u201d\n\nAnd the lark answered, \u201cIf thou willest thou canst become deathless even\nas the gods--pity thou canst not sing.\u201d\n\nAnd the serpent said, \u201cI know a buried temple, which I visit once a\nmoon: It was built by a forgotten race of giants, and upon its walls are\ngraven the secrets of time and space, and he who reads them shall\nunderstand that which passeth all understanding.\u201d\n\nAnd the lark said, \u201cVerily, if thou so desirest thou canst encircle with\nthy pliant body all knowledge of time and space--pity thou canst not\nfly.\u201d\n\nThen the serpent was disgusted, and as he turned and entered into his\nhole he muttered, \u201cEmpty headed songster!\u201d\n\nAnd the lark flew away singing, \u201cPity thou canst not sing. Pity, pity,\nmy wise one, thou canst not fly.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nVALUES\n\n\nOnce a man unearthed in his field a marble statue of great beauty. And\nhe took it to a collector who loved all beautiful things and offered it\nto him for sale, and the collector bought it for a large price. And they\nparted.\n\nAnd as the man walked home with his money he thought, and he said to\nhimself, \u201cHow much life this money means! How can any one give all this\nfor a dead carved stone buried and undreamed of in the earth for a\nthousand years?\u201d\n\nAnd now the collector was looking at his statue, and he was thinking,\nand he said to himself, \u201cWhat beauty! What life! The dream of what a\nsoul!--and fresh with the sweet sleep of a thousand years. How can any\none give all this for money, dead and dreamless?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nOTHER SEAS\n\n\nA fish said to another fish, \u201cAbove this sea of ours there is another\nsea, with creatures swimming in it--and they live there even as we live\nhere.\u201d\n\nThe fish replied, \u201cPure fancy! Pure fancy! When you know that everything\nthat leaves our sea by even an inch, and stays out of it, dies. What\nproof have you of other lives in other seas?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nREPENTANCE\n\n\nOn a moonless night a man entered into his neighbour\u2019s garden and stole\nthe largest melon he could find and brought it home.\n\nHe opened it and found it still unripe.\n\nThen behold a marvel!\n\nThe man\u2019s conscience woke and smote him with remorse; and he repented\nhaving stolen the melon.\n\n            [Illustration: drawing signed K. Gibran, 1920]\n\n\n\n\n          THE DYING MAN AND THE VULTURE\n\n\n    Wait, wait yet awhile, my eager friend.\n    I shall yield but too soon this wasted thing,\n    Whose agony overwrought and useless\n    Exhausts your patience.\n    I would not have your honest hunger\n    Wait upon these moments:\n    But this chain, though made of a breath,\n    Is hard to break.\n    And the will to die,\n    Stronger than all things strong,\n    Is stayed by a will to live\n    Feebler than all things feeble.\n    Forgive me comrade; I tarry too long.\n    It is memory that holds my spirit;\n    A procession of distant days,\n    A vision of youth spent in a dream,\n    A face that bids my eyelids not to sleep,\n    A voice that lingers in my ears,\n    A hand that touches my hand.\n    Forgive me that you have waited too long.\n    It is over now, and all is faded:--\n    The face, the voice, the hand and the mist\n    that brought them hither.\n    The knot is untied.\n    The cord is cleaved.\n    And that which is neither food nor drink is withdrawn.\n    Approach, my hungry comrade;\n    The board is made ready,\n    And the fare, frugal and spare,\n    Is given with love.\n    Come, and dig your beak here, into the left side,\n    And tear out of its cage this smaller bird,\n    Whose wings can beat no more:\n    I would have it soar with you into the sky.\n    Come now, my friend, I am your host tonight,\n    And you my welcome guest.\n\n\n\n\nBEYOND MY SOLITUDE\n\n\nBeyond my solitude is another solitude, and to him who dwells therein my\naloneness is a crowded market-place and my silence a confusion of\nsounds.\n\nToo young am I and too restless to seek that above-solitude. The voices\nof yonder valley still hold my ears, and its shadows bar my way and I\ncannot go.\n\nBeyond these hills is a grove of enchantment and to him who dwells\ntherein my peace is but a whirlwind and my enchantment an illusion.\n\nToo young am I and too riotous to seek that sacred grove. The taste of\nblood is clinging in my mouth, and the bow and the arrows of my fathers\nyet linger in my hand and I cannot go.\n\nBeyond this burdened self lives my freer self; and to him my dreams are\na battle fought in twilight and my desires the rattling of bones.\n\nToo young am I and too outraged to be my freer self.\n\nAnd how shall I become my freer self unless I slay my burdened selves,\nor unless all men become free?\n\nHow shall my leaves fly singing upon the wind unless my roots shall\nwither in the dark?\n\nHow shall the eagle in me soar against the sun until my fledglings leave\nthe nest which I with my own beak have built for them?\n\n\n\n\nTHE LAST WATCH\n\n\nAt the high-tide of night, when the first breath of dawn came upon the\nwind, the Forerunner, he who calls himself echo to a voice yet unheard,\nleft his bed-chamber and ascended to the roof of his house. Long he\nstood and looked down upon the slumbering city. Then he raised his head,\nand even as if the sleepless spirits of all those asleep had gathered\naround him, he opened his lips and spoke, and he said:\n\n\u201cMy friends and my neighbours and you who daily pass my gate, I would\nspeak to you in your sleep, and in the valley of your dreams I would\nwalk naked and unrestrained; far heedless are your waking hours and deaf\nare your sound-burdened ears.\n\n\u201cLong did I love you and overmuch.\n\n\u201cI love the one among you as though he were all, and all as if you were\none. And in the spring of my heart I sang in your gardens, and in the\nsummer of my heart I watched at your threshing-floors.\n\n\u201cYea, I loved you all, the giant and the pigmy, the leper and the\nanointed, and him who gropes in the dark even as him who dances his days\nupon the mountains.\n\n\u201cYou, the strong, have I loved, though the marks of your iron hoofs are\nyet upon my flesh; and you the weak, though you have drained my faith\nand wasted my patience.\n\n\u201cYou the rich have I loved, while bitter was your honey to my mouth; and\nyou the poor, though you knew my empty-handed shame.\n\n\u201cYou the poet with the barrowed lute and blind fingers, you have I loved\nin self indulgence; and you the scholar, ever gathering rotted shrouds\nin potters\u2019 fields.\n\n\u201cYou the priest I have loved, who sit in the silences of yesterday\nquestioning the fate of my tomorrow; and you the worshippers of gods the\nimages of your own desires.\n\n\u201cYou the thirsting woman whose cup is ever full, I have loved you in\nunderstanding; and you the woman of restless nights, you too I have\nloved in pity.\n\n\u201cYou the talkative have I loved, saying, \u2018Life hath much to say\u2019; and\nyou the dumb have I loved, whispering to myself, \u2018Says he not in silence\nthat which I fain would hear in words?\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd you the judge and the critic, I have loved also; yet when you have\nseen me crucified, you said, \u2018He bleeds rhythmically, and the pattern\nhis blood makes upon his white skin is beautiful to behold.\u2019\n\n\u201cYea, I have loved you all, the young and the old, the trembling reed\nand the oak.\n\n\u201cBut alas! it was the over-abundance of my heart that turned you from\nme. You would drink love from a cup, but not from a surging river. You\nwould hear love\u2019s faint murmur, but when love shouts you would muffle\nyour ears.\n\n\u201cAnd because I have loved you all you have said, \u2018Too soft and yielding\nis his heart, and too undiscerning is his path. It is the love of a\nneedy one, who picks crumbs even as he sits at kingly feasts. And it is\nthe love of a weakling, for the strong loves only the strong.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd because I have loved you overmuch you have said, \u2018It is but the\nlove of a blind man who knows not the beauty of one nor the ugliness of\nanother. And it is the love of the tasteless who drinks vinegar even as\nwine. And it is the love of the impertinent and the overweening, for\nwhat stranger could be our mother and father and sister and brother?\u2019\n\n\u201cThis you have said, and more. For often in the marketplace you pointed\nyour fingers at me and said mockingly, \u2018There goes the ageless one, the\nman without seasons, who at the noon hour plays games with our children\nand at eventide sits with our elders and assumes wisdom and\nunderstanding.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I said \u2018I will love them more. Aye, even more. I will hide my love\nwith seeming to hate, and disguise my tenderness as bitterness. I will\nwear an iron mask, and only when armed and mailed shall I seek them.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen I laid a heavy hand upon your bruises, and like a tempest in the\nnight I thundered in your ears.\n\n\u201cFrom the housetop I proclaimed you hypocrites, pharisees, tricksters,\nfalse and empty earth-bubbles.\n\n\u201cThe short-sighted among you I cursed for blind bats, and those too near\nthe earth I likened to soulless moles.\n\n\u201cThe eloquent I pronounced fork-tongued, the silent, stone-lipped, and\nthe simple and artless I called the dead never weary of death.\n\n\u201cThe seekers after world knowledge I condemned as offenders of the holy\nspirit and those who would naught but the spirit I branded as hunters of\nshadows who cast their nets in flat waters and catch but their own\nimages.\n\n\u201cThus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within\nme, called you tender names.\n\n\u201cIt was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain\nthat fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged\nfrom the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed your\nforgiveness.\n\n\u201cBut behold a miracle!\n\n\u201cIt was my disguise that opened your eyes, and my seeming to hate that\nwoke your hearts.\n\n\u201cAnd now you love me.\n\n\u201cYou love the swords that strike you and the arrows that crave your\nbreast. For it comforts you to be wounded and only when you drink of\nyour own blood can you be intoxicated.\n\n\u201cLike moths that seek destruction in the flame you gather daily in my\ngarden: and with faces uplifted and eyes enchanted you watch me tear the\nfabric of your days. And in whispers you say the one to the other, \u2018He\nsees with the light of God. He speaks like the prophets of old. He\nunveils our souls and unlocks our hearts, and like the eagle that knows\nthe way of foxes he knows our ways.\u2019\n\n\u201cAye, in truth, I know your ways, but only as an eagle knows the ways of\nhis fledglings. And I fain would disclose my secret. Yet in my need for\nyour nearness I feign remoteness, and in fear of the ebbtide of your\nlove I guard the floodgates of my love.\u201d\n\nAfter saying these things the Forerunner covered his face with his hands\nand wept bitterly. For he knew in his heart that love humiliated in its\nnakedness is greater than love that seeks triumph in disguise; and he\nwas ashamed.\n\nBut suddenly he raised his head, and like one waking from sleep he\noutstretched his arms and said, \u201cNight is over, and we children of night\nmust die when dawn comes leaping upon the hills; and out of our ashes a\nmightier love shall rise. And it shall laugh in the sun, and it shall be\ndeathless.\u201d","title":"The Forerunner, His Parables and Poems","tradition":"ritual-magic","translated_text":null,"word_count":7245}