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The Return of the Prophet Signed Editionby Hajjar Gibran
From a sleepless dream within the immense sea of silence, love's grace gathered dust and dew for a dwelling place in another body. The towers of yesteryears faded into a sealed memory and were forgotten in the resurrection of my innocence.
I was reborn in the twilight shadows of a world at war with itself. I knew not that the stage was set for the awakening of a new dawn after a dark night of human drama, for I was one with the world where life is forever young and the day is immaculate and new. My heart was a joy wanting to sing and a river ready to flood.
My parents in their love said, though I was born of their fl esh, my soul was conceived from life's eternal longing.
There were many who loved me, who spoke of a light they beheld in my eyes. But being merely half awake, my innocence became entangled in a labyrinth of fears and desires. As the hours, days, and weeks burned through my youth, I wrestled with my shadow.
I struggled inwardly to fi nd peace amid the harsh realities of the world. My soul echoed the incessant cry I felt in the soul of humanity.
From poor, aggrieved multitudes suffering under the heavy foot of the stonehearted;
From countless dispossessed children lost and forgotten on crowded roads to nowhere;
From the hollow babble of hypocritical warlords who assault with pious vengeance, maiming the innocent, leaving the war-torn wailing with terror;
Nightmares reared their hooves in blackened skies over my cowering fears of worse times to come.
In distrust of unjust authority fi gures, I closed my heart to a Higher Power. The negation in my soul stood as a dark ghost obscuring my inner light, and I suffered in silent knowledge of my lost joy.
I hungered for love and thirsted for wisdom. I yearned for freedom and the power to stand in the glory of a higher destiny. Like the force trapped within a seedstone, I needed to break through the dark encasement of my unconsciousness.
As my youth drew to a close, my heartache grew more immediate.
From birth I basked in the warmth of my older brother's love. On the tragic day he died, I fell deep into a dark abyss.
In a reservoir of repressed tears, damned by fears, I spiraled down into a dark underworld —
Without hope, I choked against the weight of sorrow in my writhing belly of imploded emotions. The muted agony within me fought violently against tormenting trumpets of rage, terror, and anguish.
I wore my pain like a dirty trench cloak through dungeons of denial. No window to beauty in that hellhole, only a drain to a sewer in the center of the floor through which I descended. I plummeted down a dour abyss of misery, with nowhere to turn but around.
Unable to bear this grief, the fi nal threads of my fragile strength severed, and the floodgates opened.
Drowning in a tsunami of emotion, I cried out in prayer to the guardian of my soul:
"Help me, please. Wrap your comfort around me, lift me from this misery, and carry me in your embrace. Bathe me in your light, and let me rest in your love."
Through my tear-blurred vision, a brilliant radiance permeated the room and enveloped me in warmth. Mesmerized, I turned toward the light and heard the gentle whisper of an angel's voice:
Wiping my eyes with astonishment and squinting into the blinding light, I saw a dreamy figure of a man standing before me. Startled, I spoke defensively:
"My heart is torn, and I am drowning in sorrow. Who are you to speak of love in my time of grief?"
The messenger of love answered:
As the blurred apparition became more defined, I sensed the presence of my brother but in the shape of an older man I knew only in my dreams. He continued:
Copyright © 2008 by Hajjar Gibran
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