I remember when I was younger that whenever I would be able to see the moisture on my breath it feel like I was blowing fire from my chest. “I am like a dragon” I always think proudly, braving the winter chill of childhood. “Nothing can stop me” I thought as the breath reminded me life inside burning brightly into the world. The world was full of these breaths and their wonder, every one could breath that fire from their chest, some stronger than others but all of us the same. I would savor the moments all wrapped up in jackets and jeans to test my breath to prove what a beast I was to be.

Those breaths changed as I got older, changing from a testament of invincibility to reminder of the thing I had to overcome. These breaths come more most notably on the road when running, sweat dripping down and freezing in the bitter wind. Those breaths represented a burning up inside of all the things I never knew but had to endure. A fighting spirit that persisted beyond the circumstances looking to burn my fate and the world along with it.

Now the breaths represent a small sense of solitude. I quiet moment in the night as I traverse hard concrete and quiet soil. It’s only my breath left, I feel it beneath my mask and skin. There out in the world it seems so empty, so lifeless, so void. I wonder, will there be others out there fight against the cold, looking for life out there in world or will breaths be the only one to refract those dimming lights. I once dreamed that we may have been dragons but sometime, just sometimes I feel that I am all that is left.