It is not a garment I cast off this day,
but a skin that I tear with my own hands.
Nor is it a thought that I leave behind me,
but a heart made sweet with hunger and
with thirst.
Yet I cannot tarry longer.
The sea that calls all things unto her calls me,
and I must embark.
For, to stay, though the hours burn in the night,
is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in the mould.
A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips
that gave it wings. Alone must I seek the ether.
And alone and without his nest shall the eagle
fly across the sun.
Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails
full sets awaits the wind.
Only another breath will I breathe in this still air,
only another loving look cast backward,
and then I shall stand among you,
a seafarer among seafarers.
And you, vast sea, who alone are peace and
freedom to the river and the stream.
Only another winding will this stream make,
only another murmur in this glade,
and then shall I come to you, a boundless drop
to a boundless ocean…
~ Gibran 1923
Wordsmith Extraordinaire 