The Life Cycle of a Single Breath

A promise to your lungs that they will collapse again

A single breath expands in my lungs and pierces my soul.

One breath grows a field of flowers—and kills it all the same.

The sun rises in a breath and exhales as the moon.

The lifecycle of a single breath haunts me in its sequence of events.

A breath is both a dedication and an oath.

It begins with an idea: to inhale.

To watch flowers bloom in the soil of your soul.

To feel the ache of germination.

It is also an oath to exhale—

a vow to complete the circle.

A promise to your lungs that they will collapse again,

at least one more time.

The breath you take is not yours alone.

It carries the rhythm of your ancestors.

Your great-great-grandmother breathed so you could,

and you breathe now for your great-great-grandchildren.

Your breath is an oath to life.

A single breath is a life cycle.

One more. One more. One more.

The breath you hold rests with all those who are gone,

those who gifted you a spark of life.

It is every joyful memory that squeezes your heart

and drives blood through your lungs.

It is also in the moments that tear you apart,

when your lungs shrivel into nothing—

the same nothing you once knew.

The lifecycle of a single breath is both uplifting and heartbreaking.

One more. One more. One more.

A single breath expands in my lungs and pierces my soul.