I've admittedly been a little down on romance lately: not because of any one thing in particular, but the culmination of watching relationships around me disintegrate (and, perhaps, watching Eat, Pray, Love last night with unnamed, and occasionally weepy, friends.)
That said, while I'm not generally prone to thoughts of spiritual messages from the universe, it seemed particularly fortuitous that I stumbled across the following passage from The Prophet while at the British Museum gift shop yesterday:
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you,
So shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth,
So is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
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