His name is surely famous enough, a writer, poet and definitely one of the best thinker of our time. And every thinker has a philosophy of own.
That is really strange but very interesting that the peoples who immigrate or run away from their birthplace, have a wider ability to view the world and its curves and circles in another way.
“Your children are not your children./ They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself./ They come through you, but not from you./ And though they are with you yet they belong not to you./ You may give them your love, but not your thoughts./ For they have their own thoughts/ You may house their bodies but not their souls./ For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams./ You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you./ For life goes not backwards nor tarries with yesterday./ You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.” The passage on Children, The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.
A fascinating man, and as I know I am not of his abilities but I understand him well.
Here is a “Poem”? which we might read it several times to see our seven (seals?!) selves of our own.
The Seven Selves ~ Gibran, Khalil, 1883-1931
By http://SearchingTheMeaningOfLife With a great Thank 🙏💖
Gibran, Khalil, 1883-1931
The Seven Selves
In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus converted in a whisper:
The First Self:
Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years, with nought to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by night I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
The Second Self:
Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is given to me to be this madman’s joyous self. I laugh his laughter and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary existence.
The Third Self:
And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self who would rebel against this madman.
The Fourth Self:
I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for nought was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell, who would protest against serving this madman.
The Fifth Self:
Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self, the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is I, not you, who would revolt.
The Sixth Self:
And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who, with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images and give the formless elements new and eternal forms-it is I, the solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
The Seventh Self:
How strange that you all would rebel against this man because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to fulfil. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should revolt?
When the seventh self spoke like that, the other six looked at him
with pity and said nothing else; and as the night grew thicker
one after another they fell asleep wrapped in a new and happy submission.
But the seventh self remained to look and observe
nothing, which is behind all things.
ΥG. I know it’s not a poem but K. Gibran is a Poet…
source : http: //monopoihmata.blogspot.com /