Every Stolen Breath

Today began with the possibility of sunlight,
A new opportunity to create my magnum opus.
The dawn is breaking, breathtaking and steady,
A presence as calming as the ocean breeze.
Then clouds roll through like a battalion,
Ready to bombard the soil with bombs of water.

All of a sudden my opportunity is fleeting,
Visceral storm makes me question it all.
Such are the questions I keep on asking,
Their cadence irrelevant and wavering.
For every opportunity comes an impediment,
And all I can do is ask what all of it meant.

Such searches for meaning are done in vain,
Like seeking salvation standing on the tracks.
As the speeding locomotive approaches,
Every second is one less chance to go back.
If every hope magically came to fruition,
Would that mean the conclusion of my mission?
What's the point of sticking around longer,
When you find that life can't make you stronger?

After all, we are but small cogs in the wheel,
Every breath we steal from the more deserving.
They haven't yet seen those clouds roll in,
Their water dispersing any hope for more.
And not even that gentle ocean breeze
Can stem the tide from breaching the shore.