When love beckons to you, follow him.
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him.
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he
speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the
North wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so hall
he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses
Your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them
In their clinging to
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He treshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whitness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that
You may become sacred bread for Gods'
All these things shall love do unto you that you
May know the secrets of your heart, and in that
Knowledge, become a fragment of Life's
When you love you schould not say 'God is in my
Heart' but rather, 'I am in the heart of God'.
From Kahlil Gibran, The prophet