Before life’s breath, a portal lay,
Allowing blood to find its way.
Through silent lungs, the flow would steer,
While growth prepared the lungs to clear.
After the cry, the lungs took reign,
Pressure rose to close the vein.
Yet, for some hearts, the door remained,
A tiny flaw, by chance sustained.
Meanwhile, the heart’s beat stayed true,
Until, perhaps, the winds once blew.
For through this path, unseen, unknown,
Blood clots may pass to regions prone.
Therefore, the brain could bear the cost,
A transient pause, a moment lost.
Or yet, a stroke, a shadow’s mark,
A silent thief within the dark.
Still, most endure without a care,
Their PFO a burden rare.
However, for those whom fate does call,
Detection matters most of all.
Firstly, bubbles tell the tale,
Echocardiograms prevail.
Likewise, devices bridge the breach,
A closure made within our reach.
Thus, science mends what nature leaves,
A testament to what man achieves.
For though the heart may sometimes stray,
Innovation lights the way.
Ultimately, the heart beats on,
Its purpose steady, its flaws forgone.
A tiny door, a passage small,
Yet through it flows the tale of all.
