I was reading a few lines from the renowned work of Khalil Gibran which I have recently posted here. I t was about farewells. The school year is almost ending, and with people silently bidding each other well, I myself may have do some leave-taking very soon myself, since the Lord seems to be asking something different from me this time. And so I withdrew to my cell and began to ponder on these lines by the poet. My attention was grabbed by the following lines:
In the stillness of the night I have walked in your streets, and my spirit has entered your houses,And your heart-beats were in my heart, and your breath was upon my face, and I knew you all.Ay, I knew your joy and your pain, and in your sleep your dreams were my dreams.And oftentimes I was among you a lake among the mountains.I mirrored the summits in you and the bending slopes, and even the passing flocks of your thoughts and your desires.
The lines, for some reason, led me to tears. I realized that being a formator precisely meant being with those whom the Lord has entrusted to me. Not that I have been remiss in this aspect. It's just that I never saw it in this way as the poet would actually express it: your heart-beats were in my heart, and your breath was upon my face, and I knew you all. I was reduced to tears because the poet had masterfully captured the sentiments of the Good Shepherd who knew his sheep.
What led me to more tears was to see this poetic image: oftentimes I was among you a lake among the mountains. These people were the mountains; sometimes I may think that I towered over them all, but the fact was, in some aspects, they taught more things; as formator I was the lake, placidly reflecting to them the image of their desires for the priesthood. The formator (since every priest is called to be one) is one who shows to those whom he forms the summits which they themselves cannot see yet, the great things that they are capable of achieving with God's grace, as well as the bending slopes that they have: I mirrored the summits in you and the bending slopes, and even the passing flocks of your thoughts and desires
I was just occasionally fond of poetry. I was never capable of shedding tears over one, until I came upon this one.