Children from the Prophet by Khalil Gibran 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.
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 bowls 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.
Even as he loves the arrow that flies,
So he loves the bow that is stable.
You may be the light of the sun,
But you are not the light of the sun.
You may be the light of the sun,
But you are not the light of the sun.
You may be the light of the sun,
But you are not the light of the sun.
