I watch the smoke drift lazily there
In the crisp morning air
While I wonder what it is I do
For what reason do I care?
Is it just that simple need to breathe that I decide to heed?
No, my habit speaks for something more as I search that smoke foolishly
Search it for a sign, a self inspired meaning that I do the right thing
That I do more than survive and exist between each breath
I sign that I did more than just simply survive until one day I didn’t
Until the foretold death that all must know and will eventually be met
No I want something more, something larger than my own sum of existence to give meaning to each breath
So I court that folly, that friend, that foretold death
I invite it in with a match a flare a ritual habit to prove in a way to be more than existence and instincts
To be less, for each breath to mean less only a sign I’m closer to death
Well that would be unacceptable, it would make it all meaningless
So each one I take means more and more instead a struggle for life for meaning even if there is none in the end
To do anything else is to court despair and that, that is one habit for which I will never care.