I think that when I die, I can breathe back the breath that made me live. I can give back to the world all that I didn't do. All that I might have been and couldn't be. All the choices I didn't make. All the things I lost and spent and wasted. I can give them back to the world. To the lives that haven't been lived yet. That will be my gift back to the world that gave me the life I did live, the love I loved, the breath I breathed
Breath animates the clay of our being. It is the lusty cry of the newborn, and the essence of wind, spirit, muse, sound...Everything "breathes." Think of the woods on a spring day, the sussuration of leaves, the rippling grasses, the trembling of dappled light.