On Children

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said,
Speak to us of children
And he said,
Your children are not your children
They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself
They come trough you but not from you
And thought they are with you
Yet they belong not to you
You may give them your love
But not your 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 dream
You may strive to be like them
But seek not to make them like you
For life goes not backward
Not 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 arrow 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