Living From Habit Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

When life is half over we fold unto ourselves,
partly alive, part death already.
We transpire into a past dream-like state,
living automatically from habit.
Watching leaves of our souls turn brown with
age, we yet see some green leaves holding on,
doing everything they can to keep us going.
Silently, one day soon, we will let go entirely
of all we know on earth and begin a new learning
experience beyond life as we have come to know it.