Habit: Dies Slowly
Poem: Habit. Dies slowly?
He who is transformed into a slave of habit
repeating the same paths each day,
he who does not change his brand.
Who does not risk to put on a new colour and who does not speak to anyone he does not know.
he who has a television as his guru.
he who avoids passion,
who prefers the black over white
and having all the ‘i’s dotted over a whirlwind of emotions,
precisely those that save the sparkle in the eye,
that rescue smiles from the yawns,
hearts from the stumbles and emotions.
he who does not flip over the table when he is unhappy at work,
who does not risk the certain for the uncertain to go for a dream,
he who does not let himself at least once in his life
flee from reasonable rules.
he who destroys his own love,
who does not let himself be helped.
He dies slowly
He who spends his days complaining of his bad luck
or the never-ending rain.
he who abandons a project before starting it,
who does not question matters that he doesn’t know
or not responding when he is inquired about something that he knows.
Habit? Live Now!
Let us avoid death in soft doses,
always remembering that to be alive requires a strength much greater
than the simple act of breathing.
Only ardent patience will allow us to conquer
a splendid happiness.