Niall Murphy has kindly allowed me to post this poem he wrote … He’s rapidly approaching fatherhood, and if the sentiments mentioned in here are anything to go by, he’ll be fine. Congrats Niall 
Dreams of the Unborn
No symbols you know, no flags or grandmothers,
no nectar, no teat, no moon or stars,
no night or day even! No concept of sandwiches,
no cause and effect – no love yet, nor reason;
How then dream? What problems to solve?
If “to the womb we return”, why leave?
Time there will be to wake from sleeping,
discover the why of gravity, the where of biscuits,
the smile from the centre, and the cry from the core:
that is the world, and you are not there.
You no more dream of womb than fish of water.
Those that do, dream of all-pervading mother.
No – you must dream – can only dream – of rhythm,
the special pleasure of the heartbeat and the snore,
the lapping waves of voices, and music, and rhyme.
First and last is rhythm: before breathing, before time.