Making me see my own light

Extracts from Kahlil Gibran’s romantic letters to a woman, taken from the book Love Letters from a Prophet, Ediouro

10/03/1912

Mary, my dear Mary, how could you think that you are giving me more pain than joy?  Nobody knows for sure what the line is between pain and pleasure; I often think it’s impossible to separate them. You give me so much joy that it hurts, and you cause me so much pain that I get to smile.

08/07/1914

I always thought that when someone understands us, they end us enslaving us because we expect everything to be understood. However, understanding has brought me peace and freedom more profound than I’ve ever experienced. In the two hours of your visit, you found a black spot in my heart, and touched him, and it disappeared forever- making me see my own light.

18/04/1915

The days we were together were magnificent. When we talk about the past, we become more real in the present and future. For many years, I dreaded to look at what I had lived, and suffered in silence. Today I understood that silence makes us suffer more deeply. But you make me talk, and I find dusty things hiding in my soul, which I then pull away.  

17/07/1915

We are both trying to touch the limits of our existence. The great poets of the past always worked themselves to Life.

They were looking for something specific, or trying to uncover secrets; they simply let their souls be overwhelmed by emotions. People are always seeking security, and sometimes do, but safety is an end to itself, and life has no end.

Poets are not those who write poetry, but are those whose hearts are filled with the holy spirit of love.  

10/05/1916

Dear Mary: I am sending a parable that I finished. I have written little, and only in Arabic. But I would like to hear your corrections and suggestions on this passage:

In the shadow of a temple, my friend pointed out a blind man.

My friend said, “This man is a wise man.”

I approached, and asked, “How long have you been blind?”

“Since I was born.”

“I am an astronomer,” I said.

“Me too,” the man answered. And placing his hand on his chest, said, “I spend my life watching the many suns and stars that move in me.”

My only effort here was to type Gibran's words; words that are more than just words.