I stop, I breathe and I think

My body is an armed car.  
to live on this earth  
where everything is made of materiality  
and everything has flavor  

The paths are so many  
my eyes are looking  
my hands are clear  
my head speaks  
 
I keep walking,  
looking, listening
and I stop  
 
I breathe  
 
I think:  
I'm going to the right or the left?  
Forward or backward?  
The voice of my brain tells me:  
-Very well "crabman"! Now you learned how to be free.