My pothos might be stoic,
for through drought and floods,
it not only survives,
but it wonderfully thrives.
It must have overheard
as I read "Meditations"
by Marcus Aurelius
and grasped the lesson.
I wish I could learn as fast
to set aside the angst,
accept each sucker punch,
amor fati and lovely spasms.
Come again, atomic what?
You say, habits or bombs?
I think one must possess
a taste for the grotesque
to love a fate so brutal
shape-shifting at any moment.
Unasked advice in my chest,
to navigate the tempest.
Tag: Stoicism
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Pothos Aurelius