My little boy is now officially two years old. 
Just two, but such a confident little soul, like an old wise man in a small body. 

I like to watch him how he does new things, like eating tortellini with truffles, the expression on his face... or exploring new things. Then I want to take a photo to remember it all, but then again, I am not doing it, because I want to have it all in my heart.

When I think of my children, this little souls, I always go back to this poem by Kahlil Gibran:

          On Children 
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.


  1. Hi Jelena! I wanted to come and visit your blog. What lovely words I agree! :)

    Tiffany @ The Dwelling Tree

  2. Haha, v mojem malo divjem najstniškem obdobju sem to pesem natisnila na papir in dala mami :D

    1. Tako resnična pesem... kaj pa je mama rekla?

    2. Mislim, da ni čisto razumela sporočila. Tako kot jaz ne njene sekirancije, heh.

    3. Počakaj, ko boš mama jo boš sigurno razumela.


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