Contemplative Haven

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 backwards, 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,
So 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.