At our State of the School, Harvard-Westlake President Rick Commons read a poem that I won’t soon forget: On Turning Ten by Billy Collins.
It is about the tender moment when childhood wonder begins to fade and the seriousness of growing older sets in.
Collins writes:
“At four I was an Arabian wizard. I could make myself invisible by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.”
“At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince. But now I am mostly at the window watching the late afternoon light.”
And then, the turning point:
“This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself, as I walk through the universe in my sneakers. It is time to say goodbye to my imaginary friends, time to turn the first big number.”
Finally, a line that aches with honesty:
“It seems only yesterday I used to believe there was nothing under my skin but light. If you cut me I could shine. But now… I skin my knees. I bleed.”
When Rick Commons read this aloud, it struck me how much this also speaks to entrepreneurship.
Starting a business often feels like being that “wizard” or “prince”—filled with light, believing everything is possible. Then the bumps come: the missed opportunity, the product that doesn’t land, the market that turns.
We skin our knees. We bleed.
And yet—the light is still there.
What entrepreneurs can take from Collins’s words
Keep space for imagination.
The wizard, soldier, and prince remind us of who we once were. That sense of play fuels fresh ideas, even when the world feels heavy.
See the scrapes as lessons.
Each fall on the “sidewalks of life” shows us something. Every failure sharpens our perspective and builds resilience.
Pause and look out the window.
The image of the late afternoon light is an invitation to step back. In business, reflection often reveals insights that numbers alone can’t.
A practice to try
Take five minutes this week. Write down three things you once believed as a child that felt magical. Pick one and bring a small piece of it into your work. Maybe it’s wonder, maybe it’s boldness, maybe it’s simplicity.
Rick Commons’s choice to share this poem reminded us that growing up doesn’t mean losing our light.
As entrepreneurs, our work lives in the balance between imagination and responsibility—between shining and bleeding, between childhood play and adult reality.
If this speaks to you, I’d love to talk more about how coaching can help you bring imagination and wisdom together in your business. You can set up a discovery call here:
Kalika Yap
CEO, Citrus Studios
