O the canopy of affection behind our paintings, the masterpiece of birth, the beauty of child, we must remember them, can't forget. They are the truth of our journey, the lace in our garments rendered as small stewards for our joy. The shortness of our breath comes slowly, long after we've taken our first. we are the breathing child of Creation's slant, of God's grant of an exactness of birth. The truth is we love, mean to be kind, lose our way and then come back. This lovely child was a gift, a smiling, writhing boy, one of us, one of thee, one of all, the children are maps to our first breath. The end of one signals a new beginning, not a death, but a fresh birth, a return of our flesh-born wealth, truth, come manifest, take us back to Peace. Remember this child, remember them all now, for without them, we feel alone, would be, too, crestfallen in our quake, sorrowful, needing to laugh. Remember them! They are We and Thee, a painting of...