We all want that little light in us to be taken from under the bushel. The first poet must have suffered much when the cave-dwellers laughed at his mad words. He would have given his bow and arrows and lion skin, everything he possessed, just to have his fellow-men know the delight and the passion which the sunset had created in his soul. And yet, is it not this mystic pain — the pain of not being known — that gives birth to art and artists?
Kahlil Gibran (January 6, 1883–April 10, 1931)
Photo Credit: Sunsets Of Loja, Socrates Black, Digital Image, ©️2017.