The deep of night, my son
brings birth to you;
chosen one, on this stage
of cheat and show,
be you this hour – live
pure as is this Silence,
child, blessed by
God’s unselfishness;
stay night – day is delusion.
When moment comes for you
to stride into the light,
stand as the tower,
which bears thy name;
taller than your foe,
living from vista
(poem, written by my father, for the card he designed at my birth,
I was named after Saint Rombout’s cathedral, Mechelen, Belgium)
Boutman 