The Cost of Peace

The Price of Stillness

Sitting 

silently 

staring 

at nothing 

in particular 

For a moment 

away 

no issues 

nothing pressing 

peace 

bliss  

Temporary serenity 

solitude 

like the single flame 

of a candle 

undisturbed 

by the wind 

Reality 

will return 

often abruptly 

never staying 

at bay 

for very long 

The reprieve—

the price 

of the stillness—

paid 

with gratitude 

choosing to forget

for a moment 

because sometimes 

the cost of peace 

is allowing ourselves 

not to carry everything 

at once 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

May 31, 2026 

The Cost of Fear

The Price of Starting Over 

Fear 

keeps a ledger 

of every misstep 

every trembling moment 

every unfinished attempt 

It opens the book 

whenever I stumble 

whenever I falter 

whenever I fail

and says 

see 

this is 

who you were 

all along 

Sometimes 

fear whispers 

louder than 

hope screams 

and doubt 

casts a shadow 

much larger 

than itself 

uncertainty settles 

into the seams 

of every effort 

and when courage 

does not rise 

when resolve 

does not hold 

it feels like 

the ground resets 

beneath my feet 

and I begin again 

from nothing 

But starting over 

is not the same 

as being undone 

Beginning again 

is not proof 

of being broken 

The price 

of starting over 

is the humility 

to return 

to the first step 

the willingness 

to rebuild 

with trembling hands 

the quiet courage 

to believe 

that fear 

is not the author 

of my story 

and that every restart

 is still 

a continuation 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

May 28, 2026 

The Cost of Memory

The Price of Healing 

We never really 

close the door— 

we only learn

how to enter

differently 

Again and again

we walk back

to our many origins 

revisiting

the places

that made us 

reexamining

our emotional foundations 

confronting

the unresolved memories—

even the painful ones—

because healing

does not come

by forgetting 

It comes

by returning

without becoming trapped 

Healing is a process—

not overnight 

incremental at times 

a sudden leap

at others—

but always

a movement 

toward balance 

toward breath 

toward peace 

and toward 

the version of ourselves

that can finally hold

what once held us 

© Ron Simpson Jr.

May 28, 2026

The Cost of Certainty

The Price of Self-Deception 

Some days 

I sand the edges of truth 

not to hold it

but to keep it 

from cutting back

I tell myself

clarity is mercy:

a clean line

a surface I can trust

but I know the trick 

I’ve watched sculptors

white dust rising 

as they chip away everything

that won’t conform 

to what they need to believe

and I feel it —

the dust of what I’ve cut away 

settling on my hands

I do not know

if the idol that remains 

is revelation

or if I carved it

carefully, 

relentlessly, 

until nothing was left

that would contradict me 

I stand

on what I’ve made

and name it solid—

but some nights

I hear it shift

under my weight

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

May 15, 2026

 

The Cost of Fatigue

The Price of Being Seen 

the seeing of you

in glimpses—

a new iteration 

not logic 

not analysis 

just the way the heart

tries to understand

what the mind cannot name 

This is the shape 

of seeing things differently

We are known

by how we are perceived —

and that perception shifts

from soul to soul 

built on parameters

we never chose

and cannot control 

 

a new outcome 

the ‘not you’

that is the new you.

Circumstances changed—

not by choice 

not by plan 

just the complexities of life

moving outside our hands 

Still—

I see glimpses of you 

And the glimpses

are enough to tell me

you are still here

even when the mirror

tries to argue otherwise

Safely in your nest 

in the fog of fatigue 

I still see 

your wit 

your humor 

your snark 

Exhaustion 

has not changed 

who you are 

only how often 

the world 

gets to see 

the glimpses of you 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

May 18, 2026