Breeze Breeze Breeze

your parents are not your parents
though you come from them

or though not
your parents are not your parents

they are merely the bows and you are
the arrow

mind the direction where the force
of the hand shoots you

mind the wind that gives you the push
mind the arrow
and let us see where fate takes you

why do we have to quarrel about the origin
of children
or the origin of the species?

move forward and find the real purpose
of the stars

you are here. Go there.
Does it really matter where do you come from?

there is more out there. Busy yourself
about the things to come

and give the best that is found inside
the chambers of your heart.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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