SAM TUMBLIN

We enter life but once, a fragile start,
Drawn in by breath, the rhythm of the heart.
Each inhale writes a moment into time,
A quiet pulse, a subtle, sacred rhyme.

We wander through the days, unaware,
Of borrowed air we breathe without a care.
In fleeting thoughts, in patterns we repeat,
We mask the truths beneath our restless feet.

Yet in the hush between each rise and fall,
There lingers something whispering to all—
A call to wake before the final breath,
To face the silent weight we name as death.

For life is more than drifting unaware,
It asks for truth, for courage laid bare.
Not just to breathe, but see what we dismiss—
The quiet cost, the unnoticed abyss.

And when the final breath begins to cease,
May we have met ourselves and found our peace.