POEM

Pneuma

Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash

With every breath
the infant kills infinite lives,
all possibilities,
except the one
that leads to the next.

And so atop murdered opportunities
lies the fate of life,
that like an arrow
leads to death.

Extinguishing, thus,
the only story it will ever tell,
that gained chance to breathe
into this nothingness

that was time
for a moment his.