Though the night vise turns the light to pinpricks, and the black loam smothers, suffocating earth, as yet.
Though she never wakes from her slumber, though her tiny heart fluttering clutches tightly to her mother, before she takes a final breath, a shudder – as yet.
Though the evil of unwelcome night plunge their greedy hands, again, into pristine and blameless flesh. As yet.
What it means to live is to have had life, and life is to have conquered for a blink in the span of universal time, struggling even if for a breath, a gesture, a kick, against the apathy of death.
Lay to rest now darling.
For Alex Crain, 1 lb 4 oz.