They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself.
They come through you, but not from 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 bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of 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 arrows that flies
So He loves also the bow that is stable.

                   Author : Kahlil Gibran