  I raise my eyes To the vision Of so many friends,  Strangers,  Men,  all of them,  With children at their sides Or clasped in their loving arms.  Doting fathers,
 Tender love Softening the stern,  Masculine facades,  Crumbling the iron hearts,  Igniting the Soul- paternal.  Is this not reason enough To give birth On an increasingly-
crowded Mother Earth?  My rational mind Struggles With an eternally- maternal soul,  With a womb That aches to carry life,  With a heart That could love a nation Of children,  Of hope,
 Of desires to be fulfilled.  To give birth,  To carry a part Of him- that- I- love,
 Just to see that look On his face As he gazes Upon our child,  Our love.  And even in this I have not spoken Of my own & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  inner & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  desire,  To feel the weight Of a life Within my life,  That which haunts my dreams And teases upon & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  my consciousness.  But,
 alas,  I cannot,  Will not,  Allow the fulfillment Of such a quest,  For there is the future to think about,  Is there not?
 & nbsp;  . Yet.  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  what is a child.  &
nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;  if not.
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  & nbsp;
 & nbsp;  & nbsp;  our future.
