Said the prophet:

“You have been told also that life is darkness, 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.

. . .

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 aand 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 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 man from Orphalese was young and sinewy and looked nothing like any prophet I had ever seen. He was clean-shaven and dressed in ordinary garb, yet as he disembarked the ship that bore him the crowd that awaited his sermon could not be ignored.

“Master” they called to him weeping, “How good it is that you have returned.”

When he spoke, it was with a great voice. I sensed the wisdom in his words and knew he spoke Truth. However, like most truths, his floated from the lips weightless and free, barely out of grasp like dancers on the wind.

So it has been since the trial, I thought — truths seemingly within reach and not one of them have I kept in my heart. Or… perhaps I have, but locked away and hidden, such that I may one day forget them.

I heard the prophet also say,

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For Love is sufficient unto Love

And this too sounded with the beating of my heart, but such are words. Words may uplift, words may guide the way, but they evaporate as soon as they are heard and a fraction of their essence received by the listener. only through work can love be made visible.