Life

It begins with a heartbeat.

Not your own.

Someone else's.

And it's not alone.

The first breath,

The feeling of cold,

The feeling of warmth,

The feeling of love.

Bad things happen.

But you can't tell.

You're just a baby.

For now.

Good things happen.

Colors.

Sounds.

Food.

Curiosity killed the cat.

It almost kills you.

Luckily for all of us,

There's usually someone wiser.

Scramble through early years,

Struggle through teen years,

Trudge through the beginnings of adult life,

And slow to a crawl with age.

Everything goes by so quickly in retrospect.

First field trip.

First dance.

First funeral.

Bad things happen.

Heartbreak.

Poverty.

Depression.

Life kills everyone.

It almost kills you.

Luckily, though,

It is not your time.

Mistakes become scars.

Scars become scars.

They don't change.

They're not supposed to.

Wisdom comes with age,

Pain,

Exhaustion,

But ultimately, joy.

It's a normal day.

Except someone almost dies today.

Luckily for them,

You were someone wiser.

Confusion.

Confusion.

Confusion.

Confusion.

Where am I going?

Where are you going?

Where are we going?

And why?

But you won't find out.

Perhaps nobody finds out.

But you won't figure that out either.

Confusion becomes acceptance.

And once everything has been said and done,

Once life has come and gone,

It is time,

To return to a breath.

This is supposed to be a long poem.

But it's about life.

And life,

Is short.

This is supposed to be a good poem.

But it's about life.

And the word good does not quite fit life.

But neither does bad.

This poem was never supposed to end.

At least, not at the start.

But now I realize,

All good things must end.

And so it ends with a heartbeat.

It's your own.

Your last.

But it's not alone.