My open heart.

How shall I go in peace and without sorrow?

Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.

Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

It is not a garment I cast off this day but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer. The sea calls all things unto her, calls me, and I must embark.

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, it to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings. Alone must it seek either.

~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet