Help requested re Joseph

I'm asking for your help.  As I said earlier, I'm gathering together material for my first book of portraits--based on the life of Christ.  I came across this example--Joseph.  Could someone please read it for me and tell me how I should finish it?  Should I cut it in half and expand the end of one and the beginning of the other?  I want to include the idea of putting her away, but I'm not sure it belongs here.  Please comment here or on FB and let me know what you think.

Joseph: 

I love her so much.  What is that to them, now?  Look at her, so absorbed in that baby.  How is it that this has happened to me? 

            From the moment I first saw Mary, I knew that she was the only one for me.   I had always thought that I would live life alone, and I was content with that.  I liked being alone.  My thoughts were my own; my life was mine to rule.  I answered to no one.  Yes, it did get a little lonely from time to time, but even that was nice, in a way.  I could revel in the solitude, the silence, and the sense of pervasive stillness that filled my life.  And if I did ever feel the need for companionship, there were always my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins...every one of them with a family of their own--loud, raucous, stridently breaking up the early morning stillness with their bickering, their banter, their hilarity.  I would find myself heading for home after a very short time, content once more with my solitary state.

            And then I saw her.  She had always been in the periphery of my vision, so to speak, a quiet little thing--quiet, but not shy.  She seemed to be all eyes, to the point that the other children left her to her own devices.  There was something almost unnatural about her, about the way that she just looked, as if she were keeping the events around her in some sort of ledger inside herself.  As she grew to be of marriageable age, this trait proved to make her somewhat less than desirable to the young suitors of Nazareth.  To the average man, this was not a woman to be favored.  Too much looking and too little talking were disconcerting to them.   But to me...I loved her the more for her silence.  She did not prattle on about inconsequential affairs, but when she did speak, her words spoke volumes.

We loved to speak of He who is to come, Messiah--of the prophecies in all their confusion.  It was our favorite game.  How would he appear?  Would he be triumphant king or suffering servant?  Or could these conflicting descriptions somehow all apply to the same person?  How could that be?

And now—this servant king is suckling on Mary’s breast.  Fully human, he cries when he is hungry, wet or cold.  His cries reach into my innermost being.  I never realized how much I could love someone who is not my own.

What will be our future?  Should I announce him as my son?  But he is not my son.  Should I put myself in danger of being called a naïve fool or worse by telling the truth—he is God?  I only have to look at Mary to know that she is not concerned about this.  Not in the slightest.  What secrets is she keeping?  I know that she will keep them until the end of time.