A History That Breathes

History breathes as we awaken into each new imagination. Did you think this was a life? It is the seed of every growing. It is the wind and sand and rain storming. It is the pebbles and fingers forming; the sun and the blood, and the leaves greening, then browning, then gone. It is the snow of a single season memorizing itself as frost formed upon a single missing surface, always clinging. It is a difference; distancing us into a distillation of our wish to become the knowing of our God and to give ourselves the chance of choice over matter. It is with great effort we become the softness of a thought that endures; to make the imagination of permanence a lasting measure and to make a history that breathes.