I'm Not Your Daughter

My dear parents, I just wanted you to know that I'm not your daughter. I'm the daughter of life. I know it is difficult for you to believe it, I know it is very painful for you to think about it… But remember it is you, who first introduced me to the way where I met my real parents, but when I tell you I want to go for them you do everything to prevent me. If you think you love me like this, no you don't. You just try to own me. You are just trying to make me copy of something in your dreams. You want to fulfill your dreams in me. You always think that I'm unaware enough of my personal interest. But you never thought that the most important of all is living happily. You always have fear from the future, from the unknown. But you always forget that there is someone called God, who should be more trusted than anybody else or any wealth. Don't kill the dream inside me, don't kill the hope, don't kill the dancing child… Believe in me so that I can be me, the me I always wanted to be, and the me that never had a chance to show out for the world.

On the Heart of a Daughter

_____________________________ 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 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. By Khalil Gibran.