Morning rain tapping hard on the patio rails, Phone screen glowing with a fresh set of dramas again, Coffee gone cold while I’m lacing my boots, Trying to mentally load before the world cuts loose. Lisa half laughing saying “you look cooked already,” Tyden building forts with absolutely no strategy, Aleera singing loud like the hallway’s a stage, And somehow that chaos settles my brain. Mindfully moving through moments reluctantly, Still carrying pressure around comfortably, Funny how storms become familiar places, When you spend half your life solving other people’s crises. Flood roads, missed calls, somebody upset, One bloke spiralling through a passive-aggressive text, One wants answers before questions get asked, Another wants miracles squeezed into tasks. I stay calm though… mostly convincing, Internally buffering while outwardly listening, Like “absolutely mate, let’s work through solutions,” While my nervous system files resignation. Stress in my chest but I stretch through the tension, Second-guess messages checking intentions, Deadlines press while I’m mentally pivoting, Still trying to carry the weight forgivingly. And when the pressure finally breaks away, And the phones go quiet at the end of the day, There’s this strange little emptiness under the peace, Like my brain forgot how to simply release. Maybe I got too used to surviving storms Too used to proving myself through the hard parts Maybe calm feels foreign after all this time But I’m learning peace don’t need permission to arrive Late night drive with the rain on the roof, Thinking ‘bout Egypt and old rap crew roots, Gifted but Twisted back when life felt endless, Three weird kids turning stress into messages. Now I’m older but honestly not that evolved, Still philosophically lost while pretending resolved, Still one deep thought from rewriting existence, Still one grocery bill from emotional resistance. And somehow I laugh through the whole absurd cycle, Modern life got everybody slightly tribal, Spiritual podcasts mixed with fuel-price panic, Meditating deeply while rage-checking banking. Mind-state migrates while the night keeps shifting, Spiritually searching through practical living, Trying to find meaning in ordinary days, Not chemically chasing temporary escapes. Tyden asleep with one sock still on, Aleera’s drawings spread over the lounge room floor, Lisa finally breathing without rushing somewhere, And suddenly life feels painfully rare. Maybe the whole point was never transcendence Maybe love itself is the real ascension Maybe all these storms were slowly teaching me How to stay soft without completely breaking me Fast thoughts blast through half-slept mornings, Storm-built heart still naturally forming, Clear eyes now, no borrowed perspective, Just scars, growth, humour and reflection. Still flawed. Still learning. Still trying to stay present through the spin. A calm-faced mess with a philosopher’s grin.
