Jalil Gibran: the sons of de goddess

Jalil Gibran

The Sons of the Goddess

And the Sons of the Monkeys

How strange Time is, and how queer we are! Time has really changed, and lo, it has changed us too. It walked one step forward, unveiled its face, alarmed us and then elated us.

Yesterday we complained about Time and trembled at its terrors. But today we have learned to love it and revere it, for we now understand its intents, its natural disposition, its secrets, and its mysteries.

Yesterday we crawled in fright like shuddering ghosts between the fears of the night and the menaces of the day. But today we walk joyously towards the mountain peak, the dwelling place of the raging tempest and the birthplace of thunder.

Yesterday we ate our bread kneaded with blood, and we drank our water mixed with tears. But today we began to receive the manna from the hands of the morning brides and drank the aged wine scented with the sweet breath of Spring.

Yesterday we were a toy in the hands of Destiny. But today Destiny has awakened from her intoxication to play and laugh and walk with us. We do not follow her but she follows us.

Yesterday we burned incense before the idols and offered sacrifices to the angry gods. But today we burn incense and offer sacrifices to our own being, for the greatest and most beautiful of all gods has raised his temple in our hearts.

Yesterday we bowed to the kings and bent our necks to the sultans. But today we do not pay reverence save to Right and we follow no one except Beauty and Love.

Yesterday we honoured false prophets and sorcerers. But today  Time has changed, and lo, it has changed us too. We can now stare at the face of the sun and listen to the songs of the sea, and nothing can shake us except a cyclone.

Yesterday we tore down the temples of our souls and from their debris we built tombs for our forefathers. But today our souls have turned into sacred altars that the ghosts of the Past cannot approach, that the fleshless fingers of the dead cannot touch.

We were a silent thought hidden in the corners of Oblivion. Today we are strong voice that can make the firmament reverberate.

We were a tiny spark buried under the ashes. Today we are a raging fire burning at the head of the valley.

We spent many a night awake, with the earth as our pillow and the snow as our blanket.

Like sheep without a shepherd we flocked together many nights grazing on our thoughts, an chewing the cud of our emotions; yet we remained hungry and athirst.

Oftentimes we stood between a passing day and a coming night lamenting our withering youth and longing for someone unknown, and gazing at the void and dark sky listening to the moaning of Silence and the shrieking of nothingness.

Those ages passed like wolves among the graves. But today the skies are clear, and we can rest peace fully upon divine beds and welcome our thoughts and dreams, and embrace our desires. Grasping with untrembling fingers the torches that sway around us, we can talk to the genii with explicit meaning. As the choirs of angels pass us, they become intoxicated with the longing of our hearts and the hymns of our souls.

Yesterday we were, and today we are! This is the will of the goddess among the sons of the goddess.  What is your will, oh of the monkeys? Have you walked a single step forward since you came forth from the crevices of the earth? Have you gazed toward heaven since Satan opened your eyes? Have you uttered a word from the book of Right since the lips of vipers kissed your lips? Or have you listened a moment to the song of Life since Death closed your ears?

Seventy thousand years ago I passed by and saw you moving like insects inside the caves; and seven minutes ago I glanced at you through the crystal glass of my window and saw you walking through the alleys fettered by slavery while the wings of Death hovered over you. You look the same today as you looked yesterday; and tomorrow, and the day after it, you shall look as I saw you in the beginning.

Yesterday we were, and today we are! This is the will of the goddess among the sons of the goddess; what is your will, oh sons of the monkeys?

______________________________From Gibran’s Thoughts and Meditations.