THE VAGABOND - WANDERER IN THE LOVE STORM

CHAPTER III.
جبران خليل جبران
The Wanderer in the Love Storm

THE VAGABOND
THE LIGHT OF MYSTERY

THE FREE MAN IS HIS OWN SLAVE; AFTER HE HAS OVERTAKEN HIMSELF
THOUGHT IS HIS TYRANT
LOVE IS HIS MASTER

Nobody stays free in the woods, as nobody stays as servant.
Honours are nothingbut deceptive illusions, like foam crowning a wave.
There are no courts in the woods, nor judgments nor punishments!

When the leafy willow tree casts his shadow you don’t hear the cypress complain:
"This is against the right, against the law!”

Knowledge follows more than one direction amongst people, and we only catch
sight of the beginning, not the purpose, nor the end: as those are out of our reach,
just like time or destiny. Amongst the sleepers he wonders: those,
who unable to dream, and resistant to awakening,
make fun of him. Of that dream,
the brother is seen to stand alone,
apart from him, despised and rejected.
He raises the torch of truth well high, and that fire consumes him,
but he feels no pang. He is as strong as he acts meek;
even close to everyone, he is similar to none.

There is no knowledge in the woods, no such things as the learned and the ignorant;

and when the branches bend to the breeze, it is not to pay homage to those who

know the most Knowledge spread amongst people is nothing but fog over a field ...

SINGING IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL OF SCIENCES, AND THE VOICE OF THE FLUTE
WILL LAST EVEN LONGER THAN THE LIGHT OF STARS

Give me the supreme courage of Love:
this is my prayer;
courage to speak, to act, to suffer ...
Strengthen me with perilous tasks,
honor me with pain,
and help me to stand each time I fall!
Give me the supreme certainty with love,
and of love - this is my prayer,
certainty which belongs to life in death,
to victory in defeat,
to such dignity in pain,
which can accept an offence,
but refuses to give an offence in return.

Words cannot generate communion amongst the souls.
It is silence that brings the rays of souls to souls and passes on the whispering of the hearts
to the hearts. Love is a precious treasure the sensitive souls are trusted with by God.
Before us there are life, freedom, joy and happiness. Let us abandon
slavery and ignorance, and set out to a place far away
where no hands are laid by thieves and devils.

We shall embark on a ship carrying us far away,
to a place where we shall live a new existence,
based on purity and understanding, no longer suffocated
by the breath of snakes and crushed by the legs of wild animals.

THERE ARE NO SHEPHERDS IN THE WOODS, NO HERDS IN THE FORESTS
FREELY EVERYONE WEAVES HIS OWN DANCE – WINTER LEAVING, SPRING APPROACHING;
THERE IS NO PAIN IN THE WOODS, NO SORROWS IN THE FORESTS,
THE COOL GENTLE BREEZES CARRY FRESH AIR, NOT POISONS, WHILE BLOWING
A SUFFERING SOUL IS ONLY A SHADOW OF AN ILLUSION, NOR DOES IT LAST ...

RESTRICTED LOVE ASKS TO POSSESS THE LOVED ONE
WHILE INFINITE LOVE IS ONLY SATED IN ITSELF

Those love that blossoms between the awakening and the sleep of youth
shall not be satisfied with one encounter. Infinite love descends
amongst the secrets of the night and wishes to live forever!

The wind bids me to leave; we are wanderers ever seeking the lonelier way,
begin no day where we have ended another day, and no sunrise finds us where sunset left us.
Even when the earth sleeps, we travel. We are the seeds of the tenacious plant;
it is in our ripeness and our fullness of heart that we are
given to the wind and are scattered ...

BUT SHOULD MY LOVE VANISH IN YOUR MEMORY, THEN I WILL COME AGAIN!
For another day the needs of man shall change but not his love.
Know therefore that from the greater silence I shall return!

The mist that drifts away at dawn, leaving but dew in the fields,
shall rise and gather into a cloud and then fall down in rain ...

The tempest
THE CRY OF THE GRAVES
You are like the ocean,
and though heavy-grounded ships await
the tide, yet like the ocean, you could not hasten your tides.
And like the seasons you are also... and though in your Winter you deny your
Spring that is reposing in you, smiles in her drowsiness and is not offended.

It is a flame spirit in you ever gathering more of itself, while you,
heedless of its expansion, bewail the withering of your days.

Why seek you the unattainable?
What storms would you trap in your net?
And what fantastic and vaporous birds do you hunt in the sky?
The hunter is also the hunted; for may arrows left
my bow only to seek my own breast.

Life is all that leaves, is conceived in the mist and not in the crystal.
And who knows but a crystal is mist in decay?

I went seeking solitude escaping from men,
from their laws, their customs and their thoughts. I was tired of men
playing with other people’s hopes and burning golden powder before their eyes.
I felt disgusted for that big and horrible palace which is called civilization.

In solitude there is the life of the spirit and of the thought, of the body and of the heart.
There I found sunlight, the perfume of flowers, the melody of streams.
I found the awakening of Spring, the desires of Summer, the chants
of Autumn and the energy of Winter.

A TIME WILL COME WHEN MAN SHALL SIT IN GLORY ON THE RIGHT SIDE
OF LIFE, ENJOYING THE BRIGHTNESS OF DAY AND THE QUIET OF NIGHT.

There is slavery of life, of doctrines of uses and customs, slavery
Of death. Slavery will remain slavery even if she paints her face and a wears a new dress
Slavery will remains slavery even if she calls herself liberty.

... one thing and only one!
THE VIGILANCE OF SOUL
It is the vigilance in the depths of the soul
and anyone who knows it is unable to reveal it in words.
Who does not know it, no, he cannot penetrate its mysteries.

I AM A STRANGER IN THIS WORLD
I AM A STRANGER AND NO ONE IN THE WORLD OF BEING
KNOWS ONE SINGLE WORD OF THE LANGUAGE OF MY SOUL.

MEN ARE NOTHING BUT SLAVES OF LIFE. THIS SLAVERY IMPRISONS THEIR DAYS WITH UNHAPPINESS AND UGLINESS FLOODING THEIR NIGHTS WITH TEARS AND BLOOD. WOLVES TEAR SHEEP TO PIECES, RHINOS MASSACRE WOLVES, THE LION HUNTS THE RHINO AND DEATH OVERCOMES THE LION, BUT IS THEREFORE A POWER CAPABLE OF DEFEATING DEATH AND CHANGE THIS CHAIN OF INIQUITIES INTO ETERNAL JUSTICE?

IS THERE A POWER GRABBING THE ELEMENTS OF LIFE AND
GATHERING THEM IN JOY? LIKE THE SEA GATHERING IN ITS
DEPTHS ALL THE STREAMS IN JUST ONE CHANT...

...in one Song, springing from the Afterlife!

I will walk in the storm.
it is a custom which I enjoy
both in Fall and in Winter.
but I hope that your soul too
will love storms without fear!

CHAPTER V.
Temple of Love - Khajuraho - India
HE ALONE IS GREAT, WHO TURNS THE VOICE OF WIND
INTO A SONG MADE SWEETER BY HIS OWN LOVING

WOULD THAT YOU COULD MEET THE SUN AND THE
WIND WITH MORE OF YOUR SKIN AND LESS OF YOUR RAIMENT
FOR THE BREATH OF LIFE IS IN THE SUNLIGHT AND THE HAND
OF LIFE IS IN THE WIND

Like the ocean is your God-self, it remains for ever undefiled. Even like the sun is your God-self.
Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield upon which your reason and your judgment wage war against passion.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion;
that it may sing!

If in your heart you could let yourself be amazed by the daily miracles of your life,
pain would not appear less admirable than joy.

And since you are a leaf in God’s forest,
you should rest in reason and move in passion.

Pleasure is a freedom song, but it is not freedom; it is a depth calling unto a height.
But it is not the see nor the sky, it is the caged taking wing ...
but it is not space encompassed!

YET, HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE MAN WHO WAS DIGGING IN THE EARTH FOR ROOTS AND FOUND A TREASURE...? TELL ME WHO IS HE THAT CAN OFFEND THE SPIRIT; CAN THE NIGHTINGALE OFFEND THE STILLNESS OF THE NIGHT, OR THE FIREFLY THE STARS ..?

And can your flame or your smoke,
burden the wind?

YOUR BODY IS THE HARP OF YOUR SOUL,
AND IT IS YOURS TO BRING FORTH SWEET MUSIC FROM IT AND CONFUSED SOUNDS.

To the bee a flower is a fountain of life,
and to the flower a bee is a messenger of love. And to both the giving and receiving is an ecstasy.
Be in your pleasures like the flowers and the bees.

MODESTY IS FOR A SHIELD AGAINST THE EYE OF THE UNCLEAN. AND WHEN THE UNCLEAN SHALL BE NO MORE, WHAT WERE MODESTY BUT A FOULING OF THE MIND? IF YOU LOVE NOT THE SINGING IF YOU SING THOUGH AS AN ANGEL AS AN ANGEL YOU WILL MUFFLE MAN’S EARS THE VOICES OF THE DAY AND THE VOICES OF THE NIGHT.

        If the tempest separated us
       wreaking the sea making it rage
    the waves shall rescue us
         and rejoin us on a quiet beach
             And if this life will make us die,
                 death shall be the one to give us back our life.

CHAPTER VI.
Sometimes God kills lovers for he will not be surpassed in love
Alda Merini

THE DOCTRINE OF INNOCENCE
"A sex story, that seems to be love"

CHARLES DARWIN
... but sometimes, that what seems to be love is only madness!

THAT IS THE OPPOSITE TO DARWIN’S THEORY:
MAN IS DESCENDED FROM THE MONKEY, JOHN PAUL WOYTILA
WOULD CATCH THE THESIS, ACCORDING TO WHICH MONKEYS CANNOT CHANGE
INTO HUMAN BEINGS, EVEN THOUGH IT IS ACCEPTABLE THAT A MAN
CAN ALSO BE DESCENDED FROM THE MONKEY.

He who wears morality but as his best garment,
were better naked!

What shall "tomorrow" bring to the overprudent dog
burying bones in the trackless sand, as he follows
the pilgrims to the holy city?

Sexyboy Papa Giovanni Paolo II ( Voytila )

So much for rubbing dick! And then, I must come there in the ass of the moon... But fuck that, there are females out there!

IF A DESPOT YOU WOULD DETHRONE, SEE FIRST THAT HIS THRONE ERECTED WITHIN
YOU IS DESTROYED. FOR HOW CAN A TYRANT RULE THE FREE AND THE PROUD BUT
FOR A SHAME IN THEIR OWN PRIDE?

And there are those who speak – and without knowledge or
reflection reveals a truth (?!) that even they do not understand ...

THE OWL WHOSE NIGHT - BOUND EYES ARE BLIND UNTO THE DAY
CANNOT UNVEIL THE MYSTERY OF LIGHT!

And he who defines his conduct by ethics imprisons his song-bird in a cage
but the freest song comes not through bars and wires!


Connected to the cock outlet! Only the first moment I thought the whole thing a little strange ...

Religion is a piece of land well ploughed and planted by those
who ardently yearned for celestial rewards; well planted and irrigated
by the ignorant and the coward, who feared hell ...

But there are no religions in the woods, nor is there any hateful unbelief
nor are the birds crying truth, punishment nor bliss.

And if you would know God, be not therefore a solver of riddles.
Rather look about you and you shall see Him playing... Is not religion all
deeds and all reflection? And that which is not deed nor reflection
but a wonder and a surprise ever springing in the soul!

Once upon a time there used to be religious people – but there was no “religion”!
LAO TZU

If horses had a God – He would look like a horse!
OSHO