Breath and death—
the rhyming twins
that book-end life
at both its ends—
how life begins
and when it ends—
and all our time is spent within.
A dearth of breath,
and death creeps in—
how you live within
depends.
(Birth and death
are friends,
of course,
though not as dear–
their rhyming worse.)
The author dips His feather pen,
a message to all souls He sends:
the same beginning,
the same end—
the time between the two
depends.
A spirit dies
without its sins.
How it lived within
depends.
The Book of Life
begins again.
………
