The Prophet.

I can imagine no lovelier  way of spending Holy Saturday than what I've been doing this morning, sitting in the garden, in the sunshine listening to an audio book. Not just any old book either..this is one I've been saving for a while now and this morning was the appropriate moment . It is "The Prophet" by Kahil Gibran.
At first I was startled by the american accent and the way the reader spoke the name. I suppose I have been putting an English slant on it without really thinking much about it but it sounded strange.
In the past I have read the story of Gibran and knew that he had travelled from his home in the Lebanon to make his way in America. I knew too that during his last years  his health was poor but really didn't know much more than that.
As I listened this morning to a book I knew was written in English the American accent  of the reader slowly ceased to worry me and suddenly I remembered. When I first found this book on iTunes about four years ago I had been delighted by the blurb which told me that it was Gibran himself who  read the book out loud in his later years and that this was a recording from that time.  It is "The Prophet" spoken by the author!
So who knew best how to pronounce his own name!
The writing is wonderful and brought tears to my eyes at times as I heard the author speaking his own lines.  Truly a gift from God this morning.  Here is a  small paragraph .... with gaps in it

"And his soul cried out to them and he said
Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides
How often have you sailed in my dreams?

Only another breath will I breath in this still air, only another loving look cast backward
And then I shall come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean."

Only this morning have  I realised that the journey he was setting out on was his own death...to become a part of that ocean to which we shall  all return in time.
I am truly blessed.