When love beckons to you, follow it,
though its ways are hard and steep.
And when its winds enfold you, yield to it,
though the sword hidden among its pinions
may wound you.
And when it speaks to you, believe in it,
though its voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you,
So shall it crucify you.
Even as it is for your growth,
so is it for your pruning.
Even as it ascends to your height,
and caresses your tenderest branches
that quiver in the sun,
so shall it descend to your roots
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn it gathers you unto itself
It threshes you to make you naked
It sifts you to free you from your husks
It grinds you to whiteness
It kneads you until you are pliant;
And then it assigns you to its sacred fire
that you may become sacred bread
for the Divine feast.
All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart
And in that knowledge
become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear
you would seek only love's peace and pleasure
Then it is better for you
that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
into the seasonless world
where you shall laugh,
but not all your laughter,
and week, but not all of your tears.
(k. gibran)
