And so a child is born. And I, yes in my eyes are eliptical horizons of the days to come. He is mine and I am his. To suckle, to adore, to grow, to bridge divides, to protect, to embrace, to convey, we planted the roots. I'll gaze with the eyes of a doe into the wondering cells that remain to be known. Into the window that he see's, I'll show him what is yet to be known. Vesuvius to Pompe as light brown is to grey. My years are but few, though to the babe I am that which lights the way. Like the elements charge the deep of wonder and convey in exchange for a rule in my breast. Like fire to water less my life water to blaze. To you little one I have layed all down. And in moments of "what now" I trust that maternal un-end, the thump of age, I can't wait. As the luna on eve romances the milk in the sky, I too will hold headlong the great wonder that ignites in your eyes, oh babe of mine, may you never lightly take, the eyes of your mother, the piercing eyes of she. The queen of never ending love. This cannot be explained. I will lift up the womb and bless the name of the one who made me come, hence. I am the child you bore, the one, the called out, ever adored. Tis the day.