Animate men.

A short breath, that does not feel breathed. You fear death, but life doesnt seem lived.

Because if this is living, laws and edicts defining. Everything from breathing to loving to dying.

When every moment is a struggle to better, a creature of boundless potential only to fetter ourselves to toil and the immediate. Until we dont have time to smile and appreciate.

Then maybe true freedom, is in the here after. After perfection and litigation are just whispers.

So when dust fills our lungs we can finally enjoy breath. After the light fades from our eyes maybe we will appreciate light again. And when lifes cup runs dry and we drink deeply of death. Maybe we will appreciate when we were more animate men.