And speak to them he did – while waiting for, and scanning the horizon for the ship that would take him away from them forever – the ship he knew he had to take to keep his soul from being calcified in his present life, in his present town, the ship that would take him home to another town, the town of his birth, and another life – a life filled with the promise of happy remembrance, growth, and glory.

He spoke to them – to the entreating inhabitants of the town he was leaving. Topic by topic he spoke to them of the things that mattered the most to them and which they knew they would need to remember once he was no longer there with them to guide them.

They said: “Speak to us of love.” “Speak to us of marriage.” “Speak to us of children.“ “Speak to us of joy and sorrow.” “Speak to us of crime and punishment…” and of many more things that occur between birth and death.

He said: “When love beckons to you, follow him.” “Let there be spaces in your togetherness, and let the winds of the heavens dance between you.” “Your children are not your children. They come through you but not from you.“ “Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.” “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” “It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind, that you alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.”

The entreaters – the askers – listened to the “Prophet’s” profound and poetic words. They remembered and passed them on as gifts to succeeding generations – just as readers – the hereditary askers- of this book have done for generations, uninterruptedly, since 1923 when The Prophet was first published.