Farewell by Kahlil Gibran

I always like Kahlil Gibran.

Behold, I have reached the peak of the mountain and my spirit has taken flight in the heavens of freedom and liberation.

I have gone far, far away, O children of my mother, the hills beyond the mists are now hidden from my view, the last traces of the valleys have been flooded by the ocean of serenity, and the paths and trails have been erased by the hand of oblivion. The meadows, forests, and mountain passes are masked by phantasms that are white as spring clouds, yellow as sunbeams, and red as dusk's sash.

The roar of ocean waves has faded, the purling of brooks in the fields has ceased, the voices of the crowd have dissipated, and I no longer hear anything but the anthem of eternity, which harmonizes with the desires of the spirit.

~Kahlil Gibran

Behold, I have reached the peak of the mountain and my spirit has taken flight in the heavens of freedom and liberation.

I have gone far, far away, O children of my mother, the hills beyond the mists are now hidden from my view, the last traces of the valleys have been flooded by the ocean of serenity, and the paths and trails have been erased by the hand of oblivion. The meadows, forests, and mountain passes are masked by phantasms that are white as spring clouds, yellow as sunbeams, and red as dusk's sash.

The roar of ocean waves has faded, the purling of brooks in the fields has ceased, the voices of the crowd have dissipated, and I no longer hear anything but the anthem of eternity, which harmonizes with the desires of the spirit.

~Kahlil Gibran

I really enjoy Kahlil Gibran.

Thank you Vicky for bringing this back.

Behold, I have reached the peak of the mountain and my spirit has taken flight in the heavens of freedom and liberation.

I have gone far, far away, O children of my mother, the hills beyond the mists are now hidden from my view, the last traces of the valleys have been flooded by the ocean of serenity, and the paths and trails have been erased by the hand of oblivion. The meadows, forests, and mountain passes are masked by phantasms that are white as spring clouds, yellow as sunbeams, and red as dusk's sash.

The roar of ocean waves has faded, the purling of brooks in the fields has ceased, the voices of the crowd have dissipated, and I no longer hear anything but the anthem of eternity, which harmonizes with the desires of the spirit.

~Kahlil Gibran