By Hajjar Gibran
Editor’s Note: This is excerpted verbatim from the Return of the Prophet by Hajjar Gibran in the spirit of the original The Prophet by his grandfather.
Longing to know the depths of life’s mystery, I passed my time in contemplation. On lonely walks into the night, amid the splattered moonlight beneath the shelter of the forest, I dreamt of the spirit world.
As I dreamt, the scent of a faraway wind gave hint of a revelation made more pure by my passage through darkness.
Gazing humbly into the limitless sky, I marveled to myself: “In these vast, magnificent heavens, who am I? From where have I come and by what means do I appear here? What better purpose have I than to marvel at my predicament in the ambiguity of time?”
The starlight whispered a message from the prophet’s invisible presence:
Time is the heartbeat of eternity, a soundless throb rippling through the depths of space. Mother Ocean performs her rhythmic dance with the moon, measuring time ceaselessly. Father Mountain knows time as aeons of precipitation carve canyons into his stubborn resistance.
Ticking perpetually on a seamless sequence of moments, time is the gatekeeper to all phenomena. And none can stay the hands thereof, as all things change.
Yet suspended on glistening threads of perception, between clouded memories of having been and a forever approaching horizon, you are the still witness of all that passes before you.
Every wonderful thing vanishes, every sweet feeling fades as you remain the unseen observer. And from your first thought, time is born.
In your search for truth, look beyond the lineal fields of time and logic. Climbing a conceptual ladder on rungs of reasoning, you will simply arrive where you have always been.
Truth is a paradoxical abyss that you stumble upon, and there it is, smiling at you, unadorned and as irrational as love.
In the quiet of your heart you can intuit the laws that scupt your life and shape your destiny. Shake off your preconceived opinions. Each moment you dip your cup into the river of creation it is fresh and news.
A truth uttered dwells but a moment upon your lips. And a truth remembered is not truth; it is yesterday’s reflection in the mirror of time. Concepts cast spells upon immaculate perception, reducing the miraculous to facts.
Listen to the serenity beyond the semblance of these thoughts. Release your mind from any mirage of meaning. Let your tongue taste more than the stale breath of knowledge drawn from books of another time and place. Be a beacon of the truth that springs from the spontaneous impulse of your soul.
You are the Living Truth.
You are a ray of the Supreme Being who illuminates your world with consciousness, that you may delight in fields of dreams. With the first wink of the sun your daydream begins: you think you are awake, but your dream goes on in the sleep of forgetfulness.
Could you remember who you are, you would laugh with the gods at the absurdity of your seriousness. And know that before and after all this has come and gone – There you are as I am.
Source: Return of the Prophet by Hajjar Gibran