Father-in-law-ly Advice

Little boy: patience,
 or, at least let yourself be.
You don’t see the angels loving you,
 the humble intricacies of your snowflake,
 the mountain you pirouette from.
I admonish you: love yourself,
 still, only if it be thine will,
 lest you deprive the least of your lovers
 of a tittle of your jot.
Nurture yourself, breathe, grow,
 should it suit you.
The bright Devil burns, still not yet God.