The Stoic

A stranger enters, music blaring loud,

Shaking walls, disturbing the crowd.

My pulse might rise, my thoughts may race—

But calm begins inside my space.

I breathe, release what’s not my role—

My silence speaks. I stay whole.

The sky turns dark, the rain pours fast,

The picnic dreams we planned don’t last.

But weather bends to no one’s say—

So I spread a cloth another way.

I sip warm tea, I smile, I wait—

There’s beauty yet in altered fate.

A friend forgets a promised call,

No text, no note, no voice at all.

But what they do is not my weight—

I guard my peace, not ruminate.

I send good thoughts into the air,

Untethered by what isn’t fair.

The line is long, the clock runs late,

The clerk moves slow, resigned to fate.

But tapping feet won't shift the tide—

So I stand still, with breath as guide.

Impatience begs, but I deny;

I own the now, not pass it by.

A rumor spreads, my name in tow,

With whispers I don’t even know.

I cannot chase each twisting tale—

But truth within me will prevail.

Let noise go on, let tongues unwind—

I keep my counsel, strong and kind.

The traffic halts, a jam of steel,

No room to swerve, no path to peel.

But horns and sighs won’t clear the way—

So I reclaim this stretch of day.

I start a podcast, let the story steer,

And find a kind of freedom here.

Outside my mind, a storm of voices fills the thread,

noting each one convinced the other’s misled.

But arguing won't calm the din—

So I choose not to fight, but grin.

I speak my truth, then let it be,

Untouched by who agrees with me.

I do not rule the winds or tides,

Nor steer the moods where chaos hides.

But here within, I hold the helm—

A steady hand, a quiet realm.

The world may spin a crazy display,

But I alone choose how I walk the day.