What dismay alarms a soul in calm repose,
like rain against a rising wave,
no difference felt, no disruption dealt,
just a passing vent from discontent,
not registered at all.
Control of response is our choice,
not a reaction in contention’s fuel,
but and unrelenting heartbeat of wisdom,
aligned to a fairer cause,
and we attest to no more than interest.
Those damned vortexes of unhinged minds
cause havoc for the heart,
being swept up in dramas less than worthy,
as being still is a blessed thing,
when mayhem clouds a sunny day.
Centered, calm and unperturbed
is a statement of separation,
the choice of demarcation,
to keep negative and belligerent thoughts at bay,
and in that way, maintain the peace.
Sometimes I could just scream,
surrounded by chattering complaints,
human mistakes all framed and displayed,
and in this wreckage of dismay,
Am I asked to play a part? I think not.
Age has brought tolerance,
and also the wisdom to choose what to be tolerant of,
and self-centered dramas do not rate,
just another fate with which I wish to play no part,
in the silence of my quiet mind.
Crowds no longer a task I bear,
noise for the sake of it, spewing minds won’t quit,
and I scarcely can utter a word,
polite chatter just another nail in my coffin,
a pretense I choose not to care.
Instead my soul’s flow, and in a quiet refrain,
echoes what thoughts I keep,
what remains in a conscious hold,
and I pursue what needs my attention
without the noise of unwanted foe,
those who share their dramas.
Tony DeLorger © 2018