Work

Work

Then a ploughman said, Speak to us of

Work.

And he answered, saying:

You work that you may keep pace with

the earth and the soul of the earth.

For to be idle is to become a stranger

unto the seasons, and to step out of life's

procession, that marches in majesty and

proud submission towards the infinite.

When you work you are a flute through

whose heart the whispering of the hours

turns to music.

Which of you would be a reed, dumb and

silent, when all else sings together in unison?

Always you have been told that work is

a curse and labour a misfortune.

But I say to you that when you work

you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream,

assigned to you when that dream was born,

And in keeping yourself with labour you

are in truth loving life,

And to love life through labour is to be

intimate with life's inmost secret.

But if you in your pain call birth an

affliction and the support of the flesh a curse

written upon your brow, then I answer

that naught but the sweat of your brow

shall wash away that which is written.

You have been told also that life is dark-

ness, and in your weariness you echo what

was said by the weary.

And I say that life is indeed darkness

save when there is urge,

And all urge is blind save when there is

knowledge,

And all knowledge is vain save

when there is work,

And all work is empty save when there

is love;

And when you work with love you bind

yourself to yourself, and to one another,

and to God.

And what is it to work with love?

It is to weave the cloth with threads

drawn from your heart, even as if your

beloved were to wear that cloth.

It is to build a house with affection, even

as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.

It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap

the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved

were to eat the fruit.

It is to charge all things you fashion with

a breath of your own spirit,

And to know that all the blessed dead

are standing about you and watching.

Often have I heard you say, as if speaking

in sleep, "He who works in marble, and

finds the shape of his own soul in the stone,

is nobler than he who ploughs the soil.

And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it

on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more

than he who makes the sandals for our feet."

But I say, not in sleep but in the over-

wakefulness of noontide, that the wind

speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks

than to the least of all the blades of grass;

And he alone is great who turns the voice

of the wind into a song made sweeter by

his own loving.

Work is love made visible.

And if you cannot work with love but only

with distaste, it is better that you should

leave your work and sit at the gate of the

temple and take alms of those who work

with joy.

For if you bake bread with indifference,

you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half

man's hunger.

And if you grudge the crushing of the

grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the

wine.

And if you sing though as angels, and

love not the singing, you muffle man's ears

to the voices of the day and the voices of

the night.

The Prophet

By

Kahlil Gibran