The Garden of the Prophet 
"part 2" 
by Gibran Kahlil Gibran 


And one spoke and said: 

"Master, life has dealt bitterly with our hopes and our desires. Our hearts are troubled, and we
do not understand. I pray you, comfort us, and open to us the meanings of our sorrows." 


And his heart was moved with compassion, and he said: "Life is older than all things living;
even as beauty was winged ere the beautiful was born on earth, and even as truth was truth
ere it was uttered. "Life sings in our silences, and dreams in our slumber. Even when we are
beaten and low, Life is enthroned and high. And when we weep, Life smiles upon the day,
and is free even when we drag our chains. 

"Oftentimes we call Life bitter names, but only when we ourselves are bitter and dark. And we
deem her empty and unprofitable, but only when the soul goes wandering in desolate places,
and the heart is drunken with overmindfulness of self. "Life is deep and high and distant; and
though only your vast vision can reach even her feet, yet she is 
near; and though only the breath of your breath reaches her heart, the shadow of your shadow
crosses her face, and the echo of your faintest cry becomes a spring and an autumn in her
breast. "And Life is veiled and hidden, even as your greater self is hidden and veiled. Yet
when Life speaks, all the winds become words; and when she speaks again, the smiles upon
your lips and the tears in your eyes turn also into words. When she sings, the deaf hear and
are held; and when shecomes walking, the sightless behold her and are amazed and follow
her in wonder and astonishment." 


And he ceased from speaking, and a vast silence enfolded the people, and in the silence there
was an unheard song, and they were comforted of their loneliness and their aching. 

And he left them straightway and followed the path which led to his Garden, which was the
Garden of his mother and his father, wherein they lay asleep, they and their forefathers. And
there were those who would have followed after him, seeing that it was a home-coming, and
he was alone, for there was not one left of all his kin to spread the feast of welcome, after the
manner of his people. 

But the captain of his ship counselled them saying: "Suffer him to go upon his way. For his
bread is the bread of aloneness, and in his cup is the wine of remembrance, which he would
drink alone." And his mariners held their steps, for they knew it was even as the captain of the
ship had told them. And all those who gathered upon the sea-wall restrained the feet of their
desire. 

Only Karima went after him, a little way, yearning over his aloneness and his memories. And
she spoke not, but turned and went unto her own house, and in the garden under the
almond-tree she wept, yet she knew not wherefore.