One
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you
May know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love —
I and my Annabel Lee —
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
Two
It doesn’t interest me
What you do for a living.
I want to know
What you are ache for
And if you dare to dream
Of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
How old you are
I want to know
If you will risk
Looking like a fool
For love
For your dream
For the adventure of being alive
I want to know
If you can sit with pain
Mine or your own
Without moving to hide it
Or fade it
Or fix it.
It doesn’t interest me
Who you know
Or how you came to be here
I want to know if you will stand
In the center of the fire
With me
And not shrink back.
Three
Your children are not 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.