a letter to a prince

My Dear Child,

Let me tell you how to rule:
Small moments where beauty collects that could have been missed but aren't:
these are gifts, young man.
Cherish them while you have them and dwell on them a little while after they're gone.  
Then put them away with all the others. 
You may pause for a moment to marvel, 
to behold the great sight of all these moments together,
but move on. 
Don't hold them in your hand after they spoil. 
Set them down and step on top of them, for they are your throne; 
they cannot lift you higher if they're still in your hand.
If you clutch them to your breast, 
you will never see any more than those few you can hold.  
Wandering around with your hands full like an fool;
like a sinner.
Just let them go
and be free.
Look to the sky, my beloved, and see. 
See the way it all works;
things as they are. 
In the top floor of the tallest building,
there sits the richest man in the world.  
He looks across the land, 
and thinks that it is his. 
He sneers a challenge at the sky,
and waits for his answer.
Waits until death.  
But look higher,
and see the brave who fly amongst the clouds. 
They, though higher than the rich man,
understand the power of the Heavens, 
and respect the wind, the clouds, the lightning, and the rain.  
Though these brave souls soar above all lands and men,
they do not venture to possess them.  
For they know that a single breeze,
a single strike from a cloud, 
or even the mere presence of ice, 
could send them careening from their throne. 
Some day, my son, you will inherit my kingdom.
And when that day comes, I implore you:
heed the wisdom of the men of flight.
And you will be fit to rule.

-your loving Father