Your
children are not your children.
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.
- Gibran
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