A nightingale touches its nest hoping to sing as if its home were an endless river of renewal that knew no vain. Who will come after him? Who sings the shadow of his future? Peeking are his hidden passions that sprout with his song. The nightingale has forgotten how to live in freedom: How can one love? The only answer is silent; set by example. Profound knowledge can be written in trees but those can be set in fire; so how can you speak without imposing? The children of love know what the adult has forgotten; only those young within their nest can fly into their inner most depth. Fly… Don't be shy; you learned by example. You change by setting a new life within, aware, fly.
Being a child of love means to be willing to go back to those days when all that mattered was to feel alive, and not to have money on the bank. Fulfillment is something deeper, and only those who return to their inner hearts of innocence can feel the passion waiting to be relived.