Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; to return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Khalil Gibran, On Love, The Prophet
Artwork: “Sketch for the Joyful Mysteries - Eve ”, John Singer Sargent. Location: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Image from jssgallery.org
- thelighthunter likes this
- dont-swimm likes this
- the-sirens-of-titan likes this
- electronicnightsky likes this
- yewtreearts likes this
- beccuhmeyuh reblogged this from lucreciasline and added:
- pondanna likes this
- niccollo reblogged this from lucreciasline
- strangelovealchemist likes this
- pondanna said: nobody like Gibran
- lucreciasline posted this