A poem by Isabelle Sorrells
Our air is never new.
It is breathed in
And released from our bodies in a new form
Only to be captured by the earth and
Made pure again.
We breathe history,
We breathe millenia of myth and legend,
The sighs and shouts of our ancestors –
Their whispers and desires and crys for mercy and revelation,
Of love, of loss,
Of faith and hope.
We breathe what they breathed,
And they breathed what was given to the first man.
And so onto Adam God gave life
And thus He remains in us all –
Around us, Outside of us,
Beyond us, and Within us.
We breathe the life of the breath of God.
In and out we breathe His name.
He is with us in the beginning, the middle, the end,
And the eternity we cannot comprehend.