Gratitude to the Giver of Breath — Wayfarer's Quill

Gratitude to the Giver of Breath — Wayfarer's Quill

There are mornings when I wake and feel the simple weight of being alive; the rise of my chest, the warmth in my hands, the quiet pulse that keeps time beneath my skin. Existence itself feels like a gift I did nothing to earn. And a gift always has a giver. To be grateful that I exist is to acknowledge that my life did not begin with me. Someone... or something... opened a door I could not have opened on my own. Someone allowed me to walk this r…