What is air? That thing that keeps us living, the breath of God. Somehow, it's always there, covering all that survives.
I wonder if God covered me when I was born. If he was ever present when I was rejected. Or when Guilt, hate and mixed parenting created wrath.
Was God always there in the Oxygen? The breaths I took right before I screamed or cried. The shouts of anger coming from the well inside. The sadness of my mother's voice as she pushed me to the ground. My sister and her bouts of attention. She always cried when I was treated in any way, like a kid who was loved. Hugs and Kisses were banned and care was unfound.
Did God calculate the keys on my keyboard? The air from each type. Clicking noises from the arrow keys as computers ruled my life. Video Games raised me when all others did not. Gaining knowledge quickly through the internet's response. Every sigh that was, whenever I was seen. I was like a monster, the one I had been.
How did God bless the air that carried on the plane? As I was sent across the Great USA. Jet-lagged from The Tomb: I had lost many things. I felt so depressed I could not do anything. Coincidences varied that would not have arrived. After drawing my life, I had tears in my eyes. Somebody just told me to pick it up and read. I opened up the Chapter and felt that I could breathe. I cried out to God that day and life has been weird since. Like I was under the ocean deep and pulled from the abyss.