did we not believe that something that is fast <br />is good, equating it with the benevolence of efficiency? <br />we are convinced and we get carried away <br />and so our nerves are fast our bones do not rattle <br />our feet keep on running and our hands are always on for something <br />something to do as though idleness is death <br />and sickness, as though rest is a mortal sin and death is heinous, <br />our eyes roll and we keep on talking and talking about plans <br />plan A, and if this does not work proceed to plan B, <br />B-1 to B-5, and everyday is always a commotion <br />of beeps and buzzers, and the doors keep on closing and opening, <br />never shutting up like our mouths <br />meetings and overnight discussions with what to do with this world <br />too, it is never at rest, spinning on its axis and engaging in revolutions. <br /> <br />old age comes with staff and near blindness, arms shaking, feet mossy, <br />and minds getting stoical to doubts and confusions: it is time to stop <br />to slow down a bit, to know what wishful thinking is all about: <br /> <br />what if? there are ifs now, and soon there will be a bed of regrets <br />to bury our weary bodies, soon, there will be a silence not <br />anymore wanting to ever speak.<br /><br />RIC S. BASTASA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slowing-down-3/
