Deep in the woods, where lights are afraid
There lied an egg
With all the flowers gazing
Wondering what’s inside

While the predators wanted an
Immature, weak, wingless nymph
To be preyed upon and devoured
Like the countless lives on the floor
The egg slowly hatched

She turned out to be a beautiful butterfly
Gloriously fluttering her wings
Spreading her colors and fragrance
All over the dense woods
And the dark skies

The forest turned all bright
Because a single egg decided to turn into a butterfly
That’s her Butterfly Effect

– Pradeep

“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.”

– Kahlil Gibran

“Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.”

– William Ernest Henley

Another one of my favourite poems.

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“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!”

– Rudyard Kipling

Often, the universe throws a dilemma to those who give all their life for their dreams. It’s a fork that you come across in your journey along the road of life. The dilemma is to choose the right direction. You are free to choose any. But the right decision will separate you from the rest of the herd. 

“Should I stop trying or keep pushing the limits?”

This is answered in one of my favourite poems by Charles Bukowski. 

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“If you’re going to try, go all the way.
Otherwise, don’t even start.

If you’re going to try, go all the way.
This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs, and maybe even your mind.

Go all the way.
It could mean not eating for three or four days.
It could mean freezing on a park bench.
It could mean jail.
It could mean derision, mockery, isolation.

Isolation is the gift.
All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it.
And, you’ll do it, despite rejection and the worst odds.
And it will be better than anything else you can imagine.

If you’re going to try, go all the way.
There is no other feeling like that.
You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. All the way.

Go all the way.

You will ride life straight to perfect laughter.
It’s the only good fight there is.”

– Charles Bukowski

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Original Poem : Roll the Dice