Written By Kahlil Gibran
Read by Lewis
Where shall you seek beauty,and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide? Andhow shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?
Theaggrieved and the injured say, "Beauty is kind and gentle. Like a young motherhalf-shy of her own glory she walks among us."
And the passionate say, "Nay,beauty is a thing of might and dread. Like the tempest she shakes theearth beneath us and the sky above us."
The tired and the weary say,"Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit. Her voice yieldsto our silences like a faint light that quivers in fear of the shadow."
Butthe restless say, "We have heard her shouting among the mountains, andwith her cries came the sound of hoofs, and the beating of wings and theroaring of lions."
Atnight the watchmen of the city say, "Beauty shall rise with the dawn fromthe east."
Andat noon-time the toilers and the wayfarers say, "We have seen her leaningover the earth from the windows of the sunset."
Inwinter says the snow-bound, "She shall come with the spring leaping uponthe hills."
Andin the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with theautumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
Allthese things have you said of beauty, yet in truth you spoke not of her but ofneeds unsatisfied, and beauty is not a need but an ecstasy. It is not amouth thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth, but rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted. Itis not the image you would see nor the song you would hear, but rather an imageyou see though you close your eyes and a song you hear though you shut yourears. It is not the sap within the furrowed bark, nor a wing attached to aclaw, but rather a garden for ever in bloom and a flock of angels for ever inflight.
Beautyis life when life unveils her holy face.