In a world spun of chaos, a tempest without ease,
Lies a quiet revelation—true status found in peace.
Not in empires of opulence, not in awards displayed,
But in a humble, tranquil heart, where tempests are allayed.
A battlefield of billionaires, in turmoil they reside,
While men of peace in stillness stand, where deeper truths abide.
World War Three may loom at dusk, life's spiral in descent,
Yet the man of peace remains unmoved, in placid self-content.
Health may be a gem of worth, wealth's earnest paramour,
But higher still the status of the man who's peace is sure.
He knows himself and knows as well the God who reigns most high,
A cosmic lineage in his soul that money cannot buy.
In a world of Gucci, Louis bags, of Lamborghinis' roar,
None can buy the peace of mind that makes one something more.
He's rich in ties that truly bind—a community that's grand,
Standing as a testament to what truly makes a man.
In godless times, he’s the renegade, a paradigm to seek,
For he's engaged with the divine, and therein lies the meek.
No status higher can one claim, than knowing inner peace,
It's the ultimate of accolades, where all anxieties cease.