Letter To the Unborn Son

I watch you there, I sit and stare, As curled inside this sacred womb You are protected, sheltered, night and noon. I place my hand so gently And wonder if you yet know me, My touch, my voice, are you aware? Though never met such bonds we share. Beneath my finger tips you move And make me wonder, will I prove To be the man I need to be For you who hold such faith in me, Who feel myself, so unprepared Yet hope my father's steps I'll tread. With this I contemplate you may, On some such far off future day, Find you yourself sat in my place, These same concerns upon your face, For as the Father raise the Son, So from the Son, the Man become.