A contemplative poem from TheFeatheredSleep
Most habits
Are learned lazily
Incorporated into being, before aware
Of what it means to be.
A habit is a slothful fellow
Whispering in our ears;
You’ve done it before
Come sit by the fire
And watch others rush at life
Put your aching bones close to the warmth
Feel the security of what you’ve gone and done
So many times
And if you were asked
To break out of your stupor
Throw water on the fireplace, dousing heat
And with no preparation
Launch into a violent rain storm
Obscuring your direction
Lashing your sides with chill
Would you follow?
Thrill seekers maybe
The very young, the chronically overlooked
That girl with braces who wanted to be the busty blonde
Maybe they’d fall like extinguished stars
Into the storm
And from their yearning to matter, to win
They’d keep going long after the memory of fire was lost
Fighting without…
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