The gun slinger in my mind

It’s Not 1990
 

The gunslinger waits, his hand on the hilt,

A reflex honed, a weapon built.

The world once whispered, “React, don’t delay,”

But times have shifted; it’s a new day.

The fire inside demands a spark,

To lash out quick, to leave a mark.

But the shadows of rage, the echoes of pride,

Can lead a man to the darker side.

It’s not 1990, no need to draw,

Not every slight is a battle’s law.

The world’s grown wiser, or so we hope,

There’s strength in stillness, a broader scope.

Breathe deep, let the moment pass,

Not every stone is meant to cast.

A cooler heart can turn the tide,

And mend what anger might divide.

The gunslinger sighs, his hand falls away,

The urge to react begins to decay.

For sometimes, it’s best to do nothing at all,

To let the prideful tempest stall.

It’s not 1990 and the duel’s long done,

A calm heart knows when to sheathe the gun.

By Peter m