Death Of A Habbit Poem by Elbert Matt Loubser

I am't the duration of a breath
Nor the flick of a bird's wing
I do not fly-by, as time does
Haste I shan't bring

I can but quicken the pace
The pace I walk so stiff
Time is not my air
To be palpable; hark, a myth

Whence the wind pushes me
I falleth to the earth
To let my feet aloft;
To anchor me, my girth

But yet my heart lingers
To make this flame grow bold
The fire that cannot wetten
It suffocates the old...