You are not an accident, little one. You were in my care even before you were born. You have a place inside me still and always will. I have big plans for you, little one, plans as grand as galaxies and as unfathomable, but they mean nothing. Please, I beg you, scatter them and build yourself a world I can’t imagine. You owe me nothing. I release you, and though it destroys me to let you go, nothing will separate us for long until we are joined again at the end of the briefest of days. Already you know what it is to be cold and wander but, banished or lost, you will always have a home. Where there is sky, you will find my face. Where there is running water, I will wash you. Where there are voices or a whisper of wind, I will sing you to sleep or wake you, depending on the hour. Everything in its own time, anxious one. Compared to stars the years are counting candles, blown away like wishes. Don’t hurry; the moment is all you need for eternity. The end can wait—I’ve seen it. I got here first; I’ll be here when you arrive. Be careful who you travel with, there are temptations, but with my thumbs I left my mark upon your temples. Find me there if you need guidance and feel my heart. It beats in time with yours. What else can I give you, gifts? You are the gift. Companionship? Compared to what you bring the world the people you meet are wrapping paper, greeting cards, yours for a moment and gone. I want you to do something for me out of love not obligation. Think of what that might be. Now do it for someone else.

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Based on a work at davidbdale.wordpress.com.

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