Ode to life
slowly dies who becomes the slave of habit,
repeating every day the same itineraries, who does not change the march
,
who does not risk and change the color of the clothes ,
does not talk to those who do not know.
He or she who shuns passion, who prefers
black on white, dotting the "i"
rather than a set of emotions,
the kind that make your eyes sparkle,
that turn a yawn a smile,
those make the heart beat
face of mistakes and feelings.
Slowly dies who does not overthrow the table
who is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty to follow a dream, who does not allow
least once in their life, to flee from sensate advises.
He or she who does not travel, who does not read
,
does not listen to music,
who does not find grace in himself.
Dies slowly he who destroys self-esteem, who does not accept help
who passes his days complaining
of his bad luck or the incessant rain. He or she
who abandons a project before starting,
who does not ask questions on subjects he does not know
who does not answer when asked about something he knows.
We avoid death in small doses, remembering always that to be alive
requires an effort far greater than the simple act of breathing. Only a burning patience
lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
Martha Medeiros
I heard on the radio this morning ... and it seemed appropriate for this moment ...
