WHEN GOD WAS STILL A BREATH

When God was still a breath, the universe trembled on the cusp of becoming We did not arrive gently into this century. We were pushed through fire, through borders drawn on skin, through nights that smelled of metal and prayer. Time collapsed inside us. Five hundred years passed through one heartbeat. We learned history from the weight of absence— a father not returning, a mother counting breaths, a child memorising silence. That is why we know Jesus. Not from stained glass, but from the way dignity walks toward death without resentment. From the courage of loving when hatred is easier. We have carried crosses without wood, without witnesses. Before God learned names, before heaven learned division, Shiva moved as listening— a stillness older