Your children are not
your children.
They are the sons and
daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you
but not from you,
And though they are
with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your
love but not your thoughts,
For they have their
own thoughts.
You may house their
bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell
in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot
visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be
like them,
but seek not to make
them like you.
For life goes not
backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from
which your children
as living arrows are
sent forth.
The archer sees the
mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with
His might
that His arrows may go
swift and far.
Let your bending in
the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves
the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the
bow that is stable.
