[...] Envy me not, then,
O my friends, my readers;
Though the Prophetic Strain echoes in each line I write,
Though you covet said Strain for your own,
Heed me and flee.
The words I give you now are words of Life, and not Death,
Though I suppose the Prophet would proclaim that Death and Life are the same,
And that only the foolish would divide the two,
The Two which are One.
But He’d be wrong about that, I’m pretty sure.
So again I turn and I say to you,
Pass by the Collected Works of Kahlil Gibran,
Touch it not nor gaze upon it,
But go about your ways in peace of heart and with thanksgiving.
Fly, you fools!
