New Year's Day: Versions (orphans)

Orphan ghosts
Children of slaves
Rarely knowing which way is up or down
Constantly disappointed and anticipating trouble
Waiting to be seen by others
To be seen
By the Light
Whose despair do we carry?
For we are but children
We pay attention
Honour every thing
<God shows us why we are here>
Full of pleasure, full of pain
We are the loneliness, boredom
And pointlessness of God

We are children of the Morning
So full of His Story
We choose to heal all that has come before 
No longer content with this inheritance of heaviness
No lamentation, cynicism or doubt, now
Only praise and celebration 
The way we use time
To measure our lives
Soft children made of Light
Delicate. Fragile.
We come to earth in utero
Wrapped in these seven colours

We are river, we are earth
We are sky and forest
All the old things
From the time before there were people
We learn that we sense
And learn what we sense
We hold and grow ourselves
To make a better each other 
We are the other
It pulses, beats in our chests
Each night we willingly die
Again and again
Our dreams teach us
And bring us back

We make our mistakes upon each other
Then use guilt and shame as moral compasses
We course-correct and realign
Forgive ourselves, give thanks
Then seek kinder, gentler ways of being
As our dreams show us different versions of ourselves 
Shedding skins, many lives lived in one,
Our dreams show us the stories in us
Our Karma Drama

We are roses on the roadside 
Surviving 
In the best of all possible fashions
We only know our sharp edges, 
Until Grace and our own perfume
Show us it’s OK to soften
At Zero point
At least eight times a day
We are hearts beating
We need to beat our hearts often