Love has no other desire but fulfill itself.
But if your love and must needs desires,
Let these be your desires;
To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wouded by your own understanding love;
And to bleed wilingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of living;
To rest at noon hour and medicate love's ecstasy,
To return home at eventide with gratitude.
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And song of praise upon your lips.
(Love by Kahlil Gibran)
August 24, 2010
