THE PROPHET RETURNS
© John C. Cavanaugh
All Rights Reserved
Contents
Preface
The Coming of the Ship
On Talents
On Fellowship
On Transformation
On Peace
On Age
On Unity
On Longing
On Silence
On Nature
On Spirituality
On Change
On Writing
On Touching
On Legacy
On Compassion
On Journey
On Serenity
On Darkness
On Story
On Love
On Parting
The Farewell
Preface
This book has its origin in my deep admiration for Kahlil Gibran’s masterpiece The Prophet. The gentle approach to life espoused in it has been something to which I (and many other readers) have aspired. This effort, then, is a tribute to that work. The writings were completed over a period of many years, and were inspired by my own life journey. I hope that they connect with yours.
The Coming of the Ship
How many life times had passed he knew not. But Almustafa was fully aware that the Spirit of God was within him, urging him to return to his children in Orphalese. His mind had troubled him throughout the journey, knowing not what he would say upon his arrival.
As he looked out over the deck through the night mist on this fifteenth day of Leanal, the month of reflection, trepidation overtook him as listened to his heart speak to him:
“How shall I ease your cry, Orphalese? Deep is your pain, and thirsty are you for the Spirit.
“The fragments I left with you before have sustained you for generations, but have not been enough. Still you ache in love.
“I have not forgotten the promise I made to you when I departed. You know I took you with me. Too many nights have I felt your longing. Too many days have I spent in the midst of your loneliness.
“How shall I express to you that I keep your thoughts in my heart, that I hold your desires in my soul? Mere words cannot express my feelings any more than a picture can express the majesty of an eagle soaring in full flight. Yet I am compelled to offer what little I have. My heart shall be yours once more.”
The ship slipped nearly silently into the harbor and was safely secured before dawn. As the glow of the first light of day filled the sky, he saw Orphalese. His promise was now fulfilled. He breathed deeply, closed his eyes, and contemplated what he was about to do. He thought about the message he had given them before, the bits of his spirit he left behind. He thought about what would transpire later this day. His spirit was now stirring greatly within him, and at length he turned toward the gangway. Then he strode purposefully off the ship.
Few people were stirring at this hour once he got away from the port. He took the time to greet each of them with a warm smile, nodding to them knowingly. No one yet recognized him. It had, after all, been a long time; generations had passed since his last visit. Yet he knew the people were still the same in their hearts.
By now he had arrived at the marketplace in the center of the town. The strong smell of warm drinks and hot food beckoned to him from a nearby inn. He entered, looked around, and took his place in the back. At first, he was ignored. But soon a few people reached out and engaged him in conversation. He spoke of their spiritual thirst and hunger. He read their thoughts. He expressed their longing. They were soon awed by his gentle nature and heartfelt dialogue. His eyes searched their souls. And then they knew. He enjoined them from telling anyone, then rose and left.
He was now retracing his steps from so many years before, steps which brought back a flood of feelings. His pain and his joy coursed through his every cell. He was here—a seafarer among seafarers, a seeker among seekers. And he knew where he must go. The path to the temple was one he knew well. It was in its precincts that the people bade him speak so long ago; it was to this place he must return.
Word spread quickly that the Chosen One, the Beloved, had returned. People in the fields stopped their work. Shopkeepers closed their doors. The seamen put down their nets. All were coming toward him, crying out to him with one voice. Yet he did not heed them—it was not time.
As he rounded the corner and walked toward the temple, a very old woman was emerging slowly from the sanctuary, as was her daily routine. Long had she prayed for his return, just as her ancestors, her namesakes, had done before her. His words were ever on her lips, as handed down to her from generation to generation. She raised her eyes slightly as she entered the plaza. The two met on the path. Her ancient eyes looked deeply into his, as if they were drinking from a well after a long thirst. He smiled as he whispered her name: “Almitra.” Prayerfully she replied, “You have returned as you said.”
They walked together to a grassy area on a hill. There they sat for a long time, engaged in quiet exchange. By midday, the assembly was quite large, and the crowd began pressing forward.
“Speak to us, Prophet,” they implored. “Speak to us as you did to our ancestors.” They all knew the Prophet’s earlier teachings, as they had learned and taken to heart his words. And they knew that he had promised to return, yet none dared believe that it would be in their lifetime. Yet here he was. Despite their number, they remained reverent.
“Please, Prophet," they insisted, “share with us your wisdom.” “I have no wisdom of my own, he countered,. “My words are words I hear within you.”
“They continued to press him. Finally, he rose. “People of Orphalese,” he began, “what have I to say? I have returned because I heard you calling to me in your hearts.
“What have I to say that you have not heard many times before? What shall I offer to heal your brokenness and banish your loneliness? What have I to quench your thirst?”
“Teach us how to hear,” the crowd cried.
He was silent for many minutes. He looked directly at Almitra. Gazing back at him, she said simply, “Long have you listened to our laughter, and our tears. For generations have you thought our thoughts, ached our aches, and felt our feelings. Share with us again your spirit.”
He understood her words, and prayerfully paused to gather his thoughts. Then to the multitude, he said simply, “What would you hear?”
On Talents
A shy woman at last spoke from the back of the crowd
and said, “Speak to us now of talents.”
He looked across the crowd assembled around him
and began by saying:
Each of you is truly blessed
with many skills.
But what do you see when
you look in the mirror?
Do you acknowledge and celebrate
the unique wonder that is you?
Or do you chastise yourself
for your perceived shortcomings?
I say to you—
Do you not have the ability
to touch a heart,
to dry a tear?
Can you not love
and nurture another?
You know in your heart
you do these things.
Verily, you are truly talented.
So why do you insist
on belittling yourself
as unworthy
and as untalented?
You are made of the Spirit,
and the Spirit pervades your every action.
This makes you
the blessed instrument by which God acts.
This truly makes you a talented person.
On Fellowship
Two people then came forward and said,
"Speak to us now of Fellowship.”
He smiled at them, saying:
You come together first as a group of strangers,
bringing with you the trappings
of your own separateness and differences―
a group of travelers on the same road
with only a common journey to share.
In your separateness
you feel the illusion of independence
and strength.
And you believe that this is good.
Yet you are not born
to remain apart,
but to come together as one,
just as you were created as one
in the Spirit of Life.
It is in this oneness
that Fellowship dwells.
For the power of Fellowship lies not
in your strength as separate individuals,
but in the fragility of the silken threads
of the mystical web you weave
to connect yourselves together.
Through this weaving
will Fellowship envelop you
and reveal the common ground
of your oneness,
for the web is a place
in which you see your face in all faces,
hear your thoughts in all thoughts,
and feel your heart in all hearts.
I say to you,
the secret of Fellowship lies not
in your achievement as individuals,
but in the quiet, gentle caresses of love
you give to each other,
for without love
the threads will break
and return you to separateness.
Verily, Fellowship cannot abide but in those
who forsake their separateness
and individuality
for hearts that are open to trust and caring.
The mystery of Fellowship is this—
the fragile threads that create
your connectedness
and interdependence
form the strongest bond
you can ever create.
On Transformation
And a voice came from the midst of the crowd and said,
“Speak to us now of transformation.”
But he just sat there and said nothing.
And again the voice came.
“Please, Prophet, share with us
your understanding of transformation.”
Yet his silence continued.
Finally, he looked up and said:
Verily, what you seek you already understand
in the silence of your soul
but you cannot know it in your mind.
Does not the acorn contain the oak tree within it?
Is not the maple already present in its seed?
But the tree knows not how it grew,
as it was forever in the state of becoming.
So it is with you.
Your knowledge of transformation
cannot come from reflection
or any other exercise of the mind.
For knowledge that comes from such processes
is empty and is but illusion.
No, I say to you
that if you want to know of your transformations,
then you must rid yourself of the veil
that shields the eye of your soul.
For this veil is the product of your fears,
and a result of your past.
Fear is what keeps you from seeing who you truly are,
and recognizing that you are as the butterfly
emerging from the cocoon.
See with your soul.
Revel in you.
Lift the veil.
For to do so
is the most transformational experience of all.
On Peace
A weary old man walked slowly to the front
of those assembled and said,
“Speak to us now of peace.”
He raised his eyes to meet the man's,
and gazed deeply into them.
Then he spoke, saying:
If you would seek peace,
you must first find contentment with yourself.
Peace is not something you can give to others,
unless they are able to receive it.
For the lion and the lamb cannot lie down together
unless the lion is content not to hunt
and the lamb is content to stay calm.
Peace is the province of the heart,
for the heart is present to the moment.
It is only in the moment that peace exists.
If you are concerned with what has already been,
or with what is to come,
then you cannot be content with what is.
You cannot make others be at peace.
But by being content in the moment,
you will show them what peace is
and instill in them the desire for what you have.
Anger finds no home in contentment.
Anxiety finds no succor.
No ill will can be harbored.
Nor can frustration invade the heart.
If peace abides in you, then all such things are banished.
What the world does
is of no concern to you, for you live beyond it.
The contentment that is peace
is really the love and contentment
you have for yourself.
On Age
And then an old man spoke and said,
“Speak to us now of age.”
Smiling at him for a moment in silence,
he then said:
What is it you wish to learn
by knowing about age?
Do you desire to know how long ago you began?
Do you seek to know the secret
of your length of days?
There is no profit in such knowledge.
Do you not know that what you seek is like the wind?
No one knows where the wind begins,
nor where it ends.
Yet it still comes, is felt, then is gone.
How long it lasts
no one can say.
Age is an illusion created by the mind
and rejected by the heart.
For does the heart not tell you
that waiting for your beloved,
no matter how briefly,
is like an eternity?
Is not the time together felt to be equally brief?
Listen to your heart.
The river does not ask how long it has been
eroding the rock in creating the canyon,
nor the starlight how old it will be
when it reaches human eyes.
What matters
is that in the heart of God
you always were,
you are,
and you always will be.
Is this not enough?
On Unity
A woman who was standing alone
whispered from the edge of the crowd,
“Speak to us now of unity.”
And he answered:
Look deeply into the eyes of a stranger,
for you will see yourself looking back.
Are you not all made of the same cosmic material?
Do you not all feel the same pain,
and joy
and longing
and love?
Is there not deep within you
the same desire to belong?
Trust these feelings,
for in them are the secrets of togetherness.
What is unity but the merging of souls?
And is not the merging of souls
what is necessary
to become one with each other?
From the beginning of time you have been one
in the heart of God.
For all eternity you shall remain there as one.
It is only for the moment in time you are here
that you experience
the illusion of separateness.
Look deeply into the eyes of the person
you once thought was a stranger.
See the illusion and know
that you both are looking at each other
from the same eyes.
On Longing
And a man came up through the crowd and said
“Speak to us now of longing.”
He looked at him and said:
You must know the depths of love
if you can speak of the pain of separation.
For to feel the void in one’s heart
at the absence
of one’s beloved
is the true test of love.
What good is it
to feel the joy of love
only when you are with your lover?
What meaning does it have
to know love’s pleasures
only when you are in your lover’s arms?
No, I say to you
that the truest measure of love
is knowing the joy of your lover’s caress
when you cannot touch each other.
For only then will you have experienced
the truth of the pleasure of love’s pain
and the knowledge
that you carry your beloved
with you
at all times.
On Silence
And a philosopher called from the back of the crowd,
“Speak to us now of silence.”
He gazed up at the sky
through the cedars
and said:
All that you were,
and all that you are,
and all that you will be
is first realized in silence
if you would only listen.
Is it not in the silence of lingering looks
between two people
that love is born?
And is it not the silent exchange of glances
that closes the abyss of separation
between two strangers?
Only in silence
can you hear
the call of the wood thrush
and the rush of the forest brook.
Only in silence
can you hear
the voice of the breeze
and the call of the spirit of the night.
If you are not silent
then you merely hear the sounds
the world makes.
Is it any wonder, then,
that you struggle to know
life’s mysteries
and what true contentment means?
I say to you
only in the silence of your heart
can you hope to learn
your path in life.
Only in the silence of your soul
can you ever experience
the sheer ecstasy
of true contentment.
On Nature
And a child came forward timidly
and in a shy voice said,
“Speak to us now of nature.”
He bent down and beckoned her to come forward.
When she arrived,
he motioned slowly with his arm,
indicating a vast sweep of the countryside.
As he did so, he began by saying:
I cannot speak more eloquently
about Nature
than she speaks herself.
Who am I to think
that my creations are more lovely
than a single crystal of ice
as it forms on a lake?
What is more majestic
than a sturdy tree
as it prayerfully stretches its branches
toward God?
Is there anything more melodious
than the songs of the birds
as they sing joyfully of their freedom?
Has any person ever created anything as elegant
as a billowing white cloud
in a sapphire sky?
Lo, humanity may have the power
to alter Nature,
or destroy her,
or to control part of her.
But be ever mindful of this―
humanity still does not understand
that which Nature has known from the beginning:
in Nature’s timetable,
our lives are but as long as a flash of lightning
that streaks across the night sky.
We who seek to know Nature
have been enveloped in her arms
forever.
Feel her embrace.
Allow yourself to be warmed and nurtured by it.
For in reality,
Nature’s embrace
is the gentle caress of God.
On Spirituality
Then an older woman walked slowly to the front of the crowd and said,
“Speak to us now of spirituality.”
He smiled as he looked at her
and began by saying:
What you seek
you will find everywhere
and nowhere.
The harder you search
the more difficult it will be for you to find.
For spirituality is experienced―
it is not found.
What is experienced
is felt only
by turning inward
while turning outward,
And by rejecting past and future
while being only in the present.
Does not the seed
turn inward on itself for sustenance
all the while it is pushing itself outward
through the soil toward the sun?
Must not the eagle live only in the present moment,
lest it fall from the sky
as the currents of the winds
shift to and fro?
So must it be with you.
Inside you is the spiritual nourishment
you desire.
From the beginning of the Eternal Present
has the Spirit dwelt there,
waiting for you patiently,
to caress you gently,
cradle your heart,
and welcome you home.
Empty your mind.
Make your thoughts still.
Worry about nothing.
Do these things
and the Spirit will guide you.
Then shall you bathe in the Breath of Life
and feel the kiss of God
upon your soul.
On Change
And a young woman stepped out of the crowd and said,
“Speak to us now of change.”
He pointed up to the tree in whose shade
he was sitting, and said:
Look closely at the cedar
and you shall know change,
for it is what made the tree grow
straight and tall
from its beginning as a tiny seed.
Change is life;
life is change.
Do you not look forward to what is to come?
Do you not yearn for spring in the depths of winter?
Did you not as a child long for the day you would be grown up?
These desires are but your embracing of change
as the essence of life.
Yet do you not also long for the past,
and wish that change had not come?
This, then, is the paradox―
we wish for change in the midst of sameness,
and sameness in the midst of change.
Give up this trap as false,
for it draws your attention
to where you are going
and from whence you came.
Focus instead on the process of becoming,
for while you are on the journey
you do not notice either how far you have come
or how far you still have to go.
Only then will you understand
that change is a process
and not an outcome.
Only then will you find
the inner joy and peace
of always becoming.
On Writing
A scholar stood in the crowd, thought for a moment,
then said, “Speak to us now of writing.”
He looked around for a moment,
and when he finally found a book
he held it aloft.
He began by saying:
What is contained in this book
is merely letters
that form words
that fill the pages
and serve no purpose
unless they are read.
Once read, they speak of deep thoughts,
ideas, yearnings, desires,
fears, loves, insights,
yea the very essence of a
sacred interaction between author and reader.
Words are powerful tools
that, when carefully and lovingly
crafted by the heart,
can move the most steadfast of souls
and gently open the most closed of minds.
Writing is a divine gift when used well―
a wicked destroyer when used poorly.
Speech is but a wind blowing across the field―
one moment here,
the next gone.
But writing is like the high granite mountain―
enduring from generation to generation.
Be mindful of this.
Use the gift well.
Create only beautiful mountains
that many aspire to climb.
On Touching
A couple, arm in arm, came forward and said,
“Speak to us now of touching.”
He beckoned them to come closer.
When they did so, he reached out to them and
began by saying:
Touching is the heart speaking
from its innermost depths.
What more do you need to say
to your friend or to your beloved
than is said by a gentle caress?
What greater intimacy can there be
than a loving embrace
after a long absence?
I say to you,
one soft movement of your hand
upon another’s skin in silence
speaks of passion in its tingle,
of consolation in its tenderness,
of support in its strength,
of blessing in its power,
of healing in its warmth.
You have known from the beginning
that true connection begins
in the heart.
Know now
that showing true connection
begins with a touch.
On Legacy
An older man raised his voice from
the front of the crowd and said,
“Speak to us now of legacy.”
He reflected quietly for a moment
and began by saying:
What is it you desire
to leave behind?
Care not
whether your toil in this life
creates material wealth.
Such legacies are but mist
in the early morning
that is gone by noon.
Rather,
strive to reach out to those in need,
to provide justice for those who are mistreated, and
to show compassion to those in pain.
By doing so,
you will have created
a truly lasting legacy
because you will have made a difference
in someone’s life
And your life
will have mattered.
On Compassion
And a world-worn woman made her way
to the front of the crowd and said,
“Speak to us now of compassion.”
He embraced her lovingly
and bade her to sit with him.
Then he began by saying:
You have heard
that you should do for the least of those among you.
And this is good.
But do not act selectively,
or out of your power,
or out of your plenty,
or even out of your pity.
True compassion begins with
actions from the heart
and are done so that
only you and the Spirit know of your deed.
Does not the sun shine equally
on the weed
as well as the rose?
Is not the river there for all to drink?
Be thou like the sun
and the river.
Embrace all who are in need;
quench all who thirst.
For as everyone is part of the Spirit,
you are part of everyone
and everyone is part of you.
Compassion to one
is compassion to all.
Compassion to another
is compassion to self.
On Journey
And a wanderer came forward, with staff in hand,
and said, “Speak to us now of journey.”
Gazing off into the distance,
he thought carefully for a moment.
Then he fixed his eyes on the wanderer
and said:
You have been raised to believe
that the meaning of a journey
is in the pain of departure
and the joy of arrival.
But this is not the deep meaning of journey,
for journey is a process.
To journey is to be in motion,
to be headed somewhere,
to be-coming.
It is neither beginning
nor end,
because beginnings and endings
are arbitrary, static, and fixed.
To journey is to seek, to strive, to create.
It is undertaken from the soul’s yearning for what might be
rather than from what is.
To journey is to embark without map or compass
for an unknown destination
reached only at life’s end.
To journey is to soar on the currents of life
as the gull soars on the wind¾
to rise with the updrafts
and survive the downdrafts,
deftly negotiating the turbulence along the way.
On Serenity
Then Almitra strode slowly to the front of the crowd,
and in a quiet voice said,
“Speak to us now of serenity.”
Closing his eyes, he was silent for a moment.
Then breathing deeply, he began by saying:
Many of you speak of serenity
as though it were a place you can visit,
or a state you can attain
if only you would try hard enough.
I say to you―
only if you submit totally
to the flow of life
will you know the power of serenity.
The difference is like that between
standing in the brook
and flowing as the brook.
Serenity is not ecstasy,
nor pleasure with one’s past,
nor looking forward to the future.
Serenity is simply
the experience of utter contentment in
and acceptance of
the present moment.
To achieve serenity requires
a total letting go
of oneself―
yet within this letting go
comes power,
just as the water of the brook
only flows forcefully
when it gives itself over to nature.
It is through serenity
that you know the full meaning of surrender.
It is through serenity
that you know the full meaning of empowerment.
On Darkness
Then a seeker stepped forward and said,
“Speak to us now of darkness.”
And he began by saying:
You have heard that
“In the winter
lives the seeds of spring.”
So it is with you.
Unless you descend into the nether world
and find the place
in which you are utterly alone,
totally powerless,
and where there is total darkness within you,
you cannot grow in wisdom or in truth.
Unless you walk into the cave
and face your fear head on
you cannot grow in confidence and strength.
It is when you have reached
the blackest darkness
that you have in reality reached
the beginning of light.
And it is only when you have experienced
total aloneness
that you finally understand
the beginning of togetherness.
For when you allow the darkness
to fully envelop you,
and you embrace your fear
as though it were your friend,
you will find that
you are in reality being caressed
by the loving grace
of God.
On Story
Then a young woman came forth and said,
“Speak to us now of story.”
And he smiled broadly and began by saying:
Your story is like a grand, blank canvas
on which you paint your life.
Your first brush strokes
are strong, and broad,
but have little focus.
With time,
you begin to add detail―
a bit of color here,
a touch of filling-in there.
The experiences you have
create the palette
from which you choose the hues
you use to paint,
and through which others learn your story.
Those who understand
how to read it
will know
that the essence of your story
lies not
in the boldest colors,
but in the subtlest of pastels;
not in the wide strokes,
but in the finest lines.
Even though your story should seem
as a heroic saga,
its real meaning
lies in the smallest of incidents
of kindness,
and tenderness,
and love
for another.
That is the story you were meant to write
from the beginning of time.
Go―
and may you have more small incidents
than you can paint.
On Love
There was a stirring in the crowd,
as a beautiful dark-haired woman stepped forth.
She looked at him intently, as if to share her most intimate feelings.
"Speak to us of love,” she said softly.
He continued gazing into her eyes for what seemed an eternity.
At last, he smiled and said,
You may believe that love is
the unquenchable fire of passion,
or the constant yearning to be together.
It is not.
You may believe that to love
it is enough
to open your whole heart to another.
But that is not love.
I say to you,
to truly love
you must invite someone
into the deepest recesses of your soul,
make them at home,
and willingly give over the essence of your being--
trusting that they will cherish it
as much as you,
caressing it as gently as they would the last rose on earth,
but accepting without malice
if they do not.
To love is to let the Spirit flow over you
as though you were in the midst of a waterfall--
and to serve as that water for another,
pouring your Self completely,
asking not a drop in return.
I say to you,
If you do these things,
you will know a love greater than all other things.
For this true love is the rarest thing of all.
On Parting
And a traveler came forth from the midst of the crowd and said,
“Speak to us now of parting.”
And he said:
You would ask what it means to leave
and bid each other farewell.
But why do you focus on this?
Does this not come from your fear,
and not from your understanding?
Do you not know that in ending
you are beginning?
And that in the pain of separation
is the joy of being together?
Yet, you are more mindful of the ending
and of the pain,
even as you prepare for the journey.
And this is good.
For if in parting
you do not feel the sweet pain of separation,
then you were never truly together.
And if you do not feel the emptiness of an ending,
then you never truly began.
But if you were truly together,
and if you truly began,
then you cannot truly part
and you cannot truly end.
For deep in your hearts
you will take each other's love.
And deep in your minds
you will carry each other's thoughts.
And deep in your souls
you will be one with each other.
In this way,
shall you not always be together
and shall you not always be beginning?
The Farewell
With that, he paused. Then gazing into each one’s eyes, he began again. “People of Orphalese, you have welcomed me back into your midst. Yet I have given little in return. I have said nothing that you do not already know in your heart. Your souls have known these truths from the beginning of time. I only give them a voice. And that is fine.
“The hour grows late again, and I must take leave. You do not need me here with you to know Truth. If you hear my words, you will know. I told you before that in a little while I would return. I tell you now that I never left, and I do not really leave now. What you write in your heart, and commit to your soul, is with you for all time. Is not your beloved with you though you be apart? So it is with me.
“We are all seekers of Truth. But Truth does not exist in my words any more than life exists in a marble statue. Nay, words that are not made part of your very existence are as meaningless as a drop of water in the desert that evaporates into nothingness. Truth is only that which dwells in your heart and is used to steer the course of your life. Look within―the Truth you seek awaits you.”
With that, he arose. Slowly, he began walking to the pier. Without a word, the crowd rose with him, and accompanied him. All along the way, others joined them. No one uttered a sound. Upon arriving at the pier, he continued up the gangway. He strode to the rail, and turned to face the crowd.
Looking at them lovingly, he spoke again. “You are fearful at my leaving. Fear not. For each of you has the strength within to face any challenge. You worry about being alone. Worry not. Every time you look in the mirror, you see your face and the face of all people, and mine as well. You are everyone―you are the whole. Every time you think, you think all thoughts. Every time you love, you love all. For you cannot love some and hate some; embrace some thoughts and deny others. Do you not realize that you are all the same? Do you not know that you are but one part of the whole?
“Listen to your heart. Heed your soul. Their knowledge transcends all time. For your heart is the heart of the Infinite; your soul is the soul of the Spirit. Therein lies the Truth. Let this be the basis for your life. Within you burns the flame of boundless passion. Be consumed by this passion; rejoice in the dancing of the flames. For in this fire is the wisdom that life itself is to be consumed passionately and totally.
“Hear my voice when I am gone as you hear the voice of your beloved when you are separated. Be as water to one another, as water molds itself into the shape of the vessel into which it is poured. Act as food to each other, and so be absorbed into every one of each other’s cells. Do these things and you will know that of which I speak.
“People of Orphalese, know that you have slated my thirst and sated my hunger. I take you with me for eternity. You have touched me deeply, and I will not forget you. Indeed, we shall be together unto the end of days. Though my voice shall fade from your memory, the Spirit that binds us shall remain always. Though death should render us to dust, our energy will be cast to the stars to be reborn with the Universe.
“The tide is rising and I must sail. Keep each other in your care. Teach others to do as you do, just as your ancestors taught you. That is all I ask. Farewell.”
The ship caught the strong west wind in its sails and moved deliberately from the port. The crowd stood on the pier watching until the ship disappeared into the evening horizon. Still, they did not disperse. The power of the day was overwhelming. It was not until well into the night that they left, having remained utterly silent since his departure. Only Almitra remained, standing off to the side. A smile came across her face, as her lips formed the words she whispered, “Farewell, Prophet, until we meet again in the bosom of eternity.”