Rise and Fall

In flows one breath
out it blows, done, its own death.
There never was, nor will be, one identical.
Its circumstances are a dance of chance most equivocal;
vary the person, a different version
second by minute - their age, a change of stage
and even the air from where, here or there,
I do declare you can’t compare.
They all became but no two are the same.
In flows one breath
out it blows, done, its own death.

Jeffrey Schmitz 11/23/19