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.
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