Stages of existence

 

The first day of life, when I was born I told the doctor,

“I came from dirt and will go back to it in three days,”

But on the ride home, swaddled in thick wool;

I became one with the air instead.

Changing to fill every crevice and nook of every place

Be it cramped�"

Or filthy.

(With nothing; something in-between...)

...

...

...

...

And now your three days are done,

Wild with fear and regret,

Fire hissing and spitting in rain

Your house is no longer a home

Your body no longer a place

Where your soul can stay for a moment

longer.