It’s been a few years since I was first introduced to the work of Kahlil Gibran, a Lebanese poet who wrote The Prophet among other books.
It was an epiphany for me the moment I began to turn the pages – what I read at night stayed with me the following day as I turned the words over and over in my mind amazed at their power and Gibran’s ability to state profound truths simply in a manner all could understand.
Books are truly like that box of chocolates Forrest Gump spoke of – you never know what is inside, what treats lay within until opened.
More than anything I believe it opened to my eyes to the fact a truth can be universally recognized and spoken in all dialects and cultures.
Of all the works of Gibran The Prophet is my favorite, I read it often as it is a book lending itself to revisitation and I’ve come to know many passages by heart.
If I begin a book I finish it regardless of how tedious it may be, always thinking that there is something within to learn, a discipline of sorts.
Knowing my penchant for doing so there are books I will avoid – I don’t want to spend hours reading romance novels for example or a few other genres.
There was a time when I would have scoffed at the very mention of poetry or prose, and there are examples I think ridiculously inane, not so The Prophet, it is a monumental work everyone should come to know.