The first look is that moment in which life flows of sleepiness for the dawn.

It is the first flame that lights up the intimate depths of the heart. It is the first magical note pulled up from the silver ropes of a feeling that may be born.

It is that instant moment in which the chronicles of the time are open in front of the soul, and show to the eyes the feats of the night, and the voices of the conscience.

It is it what opens the secrets of Eternity to the future.

It is the seed sown, and sprinkled upon the eyes of the loved one in the landscape of love, then watered and cared for affection, and finally harvest by the soul.

There is not anything fuller of hope than the first look.

No vague expectation, because there has not been time to wait yet. No fleeting feeling, because there has not been time to feel.

Nothing interferes with the first look, during the infinite seconds that lasts.

There is no time. There is no space. There are just glances that interpenetrate each other for the first time.

What do they seek when they get lost? What do they say? When do they say? Responses which will not come.

Even that after this, many others come, that the eyes decide to fall in love, and they visit each other every day in each dawn, the memory of the first remains in the retina of the soul, in the history of the Spirit.

And how many first looks are there in this exact moment of time?

How many lives dawn with them while we observe the cars rushed. While we look through the window, people. While we consider - only, then, only.

How many new chances for life are given with these simple and transparent raptures...

How many new forces, new opportunities, new visions on an old world...

How many reunions veiled by the oblivion of memory, give themselves by the memory of the heart...

What would it be of love without the first look...

*   *   *

Let us celebrate the love that is born, the love which makes promises, the potential love.

Let us celebrate the seed the same way that we celebrate the sweet fruit.

Let us exalt the will to be a butterfly, found in the caterpillar that is born.

Let us celebrate the birth of each new love, the same way that we exult when we receive a child in this world.

Let us not be fooled by pessimism which destroys broken hearts, which have not allowed the time to cure their wounds yet.

Let us not give up so easily the human potential, under self destructive expressions such as: There is no way. It has been worse each day. It is the end of everything.

Believing in the love that is coming means to believe in survival of life, and fight for it.

*   *   *

Love is of divine essence and all of you, from the first to the last, have, at the bottom of your heart, the spark of this sacred fire.

Love is everywhere in Nature, which invites us to the exercise of our intelligence.

Even in the movement of the stars we find it.

It is love which ornaments the Nature with its rich carpets.

It decorates and establishes address wherever it encounters flowers and perfumes.

It is still the love that gives peace to men, calm to the sea, silence to the winds and sleep to the pain.

Spiritist Moment Team based on text from Khalil Gibran, from the book
A voz do Mestre, published by Claridade;  item XVI of Introduction and item 9
of chapter XI from O Evangelho Segundo o Espiritismo, by Allan Kardec,
published by Feb.
November 8. 2012.