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Poem

On the paths of cheap thinking, steps are lost in the dust
Of a road worn down by conformism demanding its toll,
For it's costly to step out of line, to defy the line drawn
With white chalk on the board of life, where lessons are clear,
Black or white, right or wrong, and we learn to expect
Reward or punishment like a Pavlovian reflex,
Rolling through time, becoming ideologies unwittingly,
We define ourselves by jobs, birthplaces, diplomas,
At the intersection of these lines, template ideas are born,
Mainstream and accepted by the masses, as well-behaved
As a gray suit in the university hall, where jeans
And a t-shirt are acts of rebellion, expensive as a freedom
Paid in coins of image, for the inverse of norms
Is a road paved with risks, and public choices cost.
But how not to get lost in this web of conventions?
How not to let the invisible hand push you forward,
On the worn path, free of headaches,
Where the suit is a shield and thinking, an easy shortcut?
There are many trivial subjects where cheap thinking
Finds its place, but few are those that demand depth,
Where there's no room for laziness, ideology, or conformism.
Do I do things because I believe in them, or am I carried
By the current that pushes me like a leaf on water?
In this stream of consciousness, I lose and find myself,
Seeking the melancholic magic of an authentic choice,
A dance of shadows and lights under the emerald sky,
Where every step is a question and every answer,
A discovery of a self unbound by norms.

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