each breath is a gift,
our hold on existence -
at its best -
is tenuous,
we control so little
of our fate;
we lack ready reminders
of the fleeting nature of
of our lives;
when they do come
they often surprise,
ripping holes
in the fabric of our souls,
if we stop to embrace it,
this pain
will reinforce our impermanence,
there are no guarantees,
we must live well
in the time
we are given
