Seven centuries ago seven white doves rose from a deep valley flying to the snow-white summit of the mountain. One of the seven men who watched the flight said, ” I see a black spot on the wing of the seventh dove.”
Today the people in that valley tell of seven black doves that flew to the summit of the snowy mountain.
In the autumn I gathered all my sorrows and buried them in my garden.
And when April returned and spring came to wed the earth, there grew in my garden beautiful flowers unlike all other flowers.
And my neighbors came to behold them, and they all said to me, “When the autumn comes again, at seeding time, will you not give us the seeds of these flowers that we may have them in our gardens?”
[Story 3 ]
You may sit at your window watching the passersby. And waiting you may see a nun walking toward your right hand, and a prostitute towards your left hand.
And you may say in your innocence, “How noble is the one and how ignoble is the other.”
But should you close your eyes and listen awhile you would hear a voice whispering in the ether, “One seeks me in prayer, and the other in pain. And in the spirit of each there is a bower for my spirit.”
Source: Kahlil Gibran | Sand and Foam