To every story there comes the point of ending;
To every life there comes a time for leaving-
For everything under the sun has a planned close
Like ticking clocks that soon are muted in repose.
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A beautiful piece. Nicely written. However may I be so bold as to suggest that the line we breathe today with no possibilities of tomorrow might be better using the word guarantees instead of possibilities? Just a thought. Still a lovely poem!