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In 1967, a young lady named Karlyn I met while stationed at Winston-Salem Air Force Station in North Carolina, (an early warning radar site outdated these days), gave me a nice leather bound copy of "The Prophet".
I had no idea what a gift it was until later in life. At the time, I went through the motions of looking over the book but was young, far too young to grasp what a profound work of art it was.
Khalil Gibran could weave words into a tapistry like Biblical Joseph's coat of many colors as if he could gaze into the soul to capture deep emotions, then write them down.
IMHO, The Prophet is perhaps the most profound book other than the Bible, (in at least some versions), ever written. My favorite is the one when Gibran speaks of love.
M., thanks also for bringing back a memory of a special friend of long ago. She was a lovely lady who looked a great deal like Lauren Bacall, one of my favorite actresses and had the voice to match. Considering at the time I was 21, I won't bother to say what I had on my mind, but there was no doodling, only a deep friendship. She was unusually wise for one so young, possibly because she understood Gibran's work. We would chat for hours and hours about anything and everything, never running out of things to say. When we spoke together, it was if time stopped just for us.
It is odd how once you mature in life, you can look back at such a friendship as a treasure, if only for a season. The Prophet is such a gift to humanity, for you can associate meaning with treasures you knew not you even had.
Maybe it is time to read it again, very slowly as if tasting vintage wine, watching a lovley sunset, or digesting what a gift just one more day on this earth really is.
