This afternoon I went out of town to do a House Blessing Ceremony, followed by a memorial for a young man who died four years ago. At the end of the memorial the mother read a poem by Kahlil Gibran from 'The Prophet'. There is no way that I can reproduce the steady depth of feeling and emotion as she read the poem, On Children, for her lost son. His three siblings stood silently listening.
The father then read a verse, with equal depth of feeling.
The dew is on the lotus - Rise, Great Sun
And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave.
Om mani padme hum, the sunrise comes.
The dewdrop slips into the shining sea.
The Light of Asia
Sir Edwin Arnold
