Slowing Down Poem by RIC BASTASA

did we not believe that something that is fast
is good, equating it with the benevolence of efficiency?
we are convinced and we get carried away
and so our nerves are fast our bones do not rattle
our feet keep on running and our hands are always on for something
something to do as though idleness is death
and sickness, as though rest is a mortal sin and death is heinous,
our eyes roll and we keep on talking and talking about plans
plan A, and if this does not work proceed to plan B,
B-1 to B-5, and everyday is always a commotion
of beeps and buzzers, and the doors keep on closing and opening,
never shutting up like our mouths
meetings and overnight discussions with what to do with this world
too, it is never at rest, spinning on its axis and engaging in revolutions.

old age comes with staff and near blindness, arms shaking, feet mossy,
and minds getting stoical to doubts and confusions: it is time to stop
to slow down a bit, to know what wishful thinking is all about:

what if? there are ifs now, and soon there will be a bed of regrets
to bury our weary bodies, soon, there will be a silence not
anymore wanting to ever speak.