Song Of Love Xxiv

I am the lover's eyes, and the spirit's
Wine, and the heart's nourishment.
I am a rose. My heart opens at dawn and
The virgin kisses me and places me
Upon her breast.


I am the house of true fortune, and the
Origin of pleasure, and the beginning
Of peace and tranquility. I am the gentle
Smile upon his lips of beauty. When youth
Overtakes me he forgets his toil, and his
Whole life becomes reality of sweet dreams.


I am the poet's elation,
And the artist's revelation,
And the musician's inspiration.


I am a sacred shrine in the heart of a
Child, adored by a merciful mother.


I appear to a heart's cry; I shun a demand;
My fullness pursues the heart's desire;
It shuns the empty claim of the voice.


I appeared to Adam through Eve
And exile was his lot;
Yet I revealed myself to Solomon, and
He drew wisdom from my presence.


I smiled at Helena and she destroyed Tarwada;
Yet I crowned Cleopatra and peace dominated
The Valley of the Nile.


I am like the ages -- building today
And destroying tomorrow;
I am like a god, who creates and ruins;
I am sweeter than a violet's sigh;
I am more violent than a raging tempest.


Gifts alone do not entice me;
Parting does not discourage me;
Poverty does not chase me;
Jealousy does not prove my awareness;
Madness does not evidence my presence.


Oh seekers, I am Truth, beseeching Truth;
And your Truth in seeking and receiving
And protecting me shall determine my
Behavior.

by Khalil Gibran

Comments (4)

Thank you janice. You are a blessed wonderful person. Children are so precious. I do not have any, nor have I fostered any. But I am sure they loved you and you loved them more than any items lost. As I often say about my animals, who destroy everything: My couch doesn't jump up and love me when I come home. Thank you for sharing this. Bless you.
I like you poem very much. I have a comment however. I have been doing foster care most of my life. I have had the consol kicked out of my car, holes in the walls, precious ornaments smashed, had to sell my home because neighbours complained. So much stress along with writing flat out for years. But still I continue and refuse to give up, for each child who passes across my door, there is a small way that I can help. Thats showing love and security. Some don't want it others do. But at least some are saved.
You read my mind, Sandra...I have a published poem about children...beautiful, just beautiful Theodora Onken
Excellent Sandra and so timely. And we must ask ourselves, who does care? And who has sold them out. H