My Immense wealth I give to you my son on your Birthday in my Letter

Dearest Beta Sanidhya,

My Immense wealth I give to you my son on your Birthday,
My wealth lies more in the faliures of my life than my succeses.
My wealth lies in people I have known and lost.
My wealth lies in the pain and the heartache of living.
My wealth lies in the memories of those moments of love that were given to me. And given by me. But my wealth also lies in letting those joyous moments and people go.
My wealth lies in all those unfullfilled dreams. In all those longings that aroused my passions.
My wealth lies in all the passions I have ever felt and expressed. And those not expressed.
My wealth lies in every moment of guilt that I carry for actions done or imagined. That burden too is my wealth.
My wealth lies in every breath that I have ever breathed. Each imbued with doubts and questions and hopes and dreams. And fears.
All this wealth I bequeath to you. For you to squander to the winds.

On this most lovely occasion here are the two poems for you from a father, in whose heart you were born and lived before you were conceptualized in the physical world, my beta.

The title of the first poem is “Daffodils”:
{
I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
“

Daffodils which are so beautiful even though they grew among the mossy stones. Some of them rest their heads upon these stones, as on a pillow for weariness; and the rest toss and reel and dance, and seem as if they verily laugh with the wind, that blew upon them over the lake; they look so gay, ever glancing, ever changing. So are you and me my son, daffodils, the difference is we are on different stones.

The second poem is “ Is God real, papa ?”

{
It's late in the night
I hold your little hand in mine
we lie in bed as u stare at the ceiling
what is God, Papa
is God real ?

of course my love
God is real
God is love
but does God exist, Papa
or is he in my imagination ?
both, my love
God is real

and in your imagination
God is a feeling
an emotion
the most powerful emotion in the world
God is love

I don't understand, Papa
do u love your little white stick
that you cuddle up with every night ?
Yes, Papa
Is the stick real, or
is it a kitchen burner?
It is a kitchen burner, papa
But in your arms at night,
your love for the stick is real ?
Yes, papa
That love,
my love

is God
for God can make
anything real
if there is love

Did God make me
and you and mummy ?
Yes my love,
God is like a vast ocean
and all of us are drops
from that ocean
which makes you God too
And mummy ?
Yes mummy too
and everything you see
and hear
and feel
and imagine
is God
I don't understand, papa
Neither do I, my love

how do I tell u
that God is not an answer
but a Question
and always will be ?
How do I tell u,
that you knew God
before
the world is teaching you
to define everything ?
How do I tell u
that your Papa
does not know anything
but that God is the connection
between the real and imagined ?
How do I tell u
that God is Love
a Love
that holds the entire Universe
in an eternal embrace ?“

All I have for you is me and my love and my creativity and spirituality. Hope you will like and accept your humble birthday gift.

Your Papa
Ravi