The Cigar, and The Man

Some things speak without sound—a well-worn chair, a burning cigar, and a man who doesn’t rush the moment. The chair isn’t just furniture. It’s where a man returns when the world has taken its swing. It doesn’t ask questions. It listens. The cigar? It isn’t about the smoke. It’s about time. It’s about patience. You don’t rush a good cigar—the same way you don’t rush a good life. You let it burn. You sit with it. You taste what it has to say. 

The man? He’s not perfect. But he’s learning. He’s learning that power isn’t loud—it’s controlled. That manhood isn’t noise—it’s presence. He’s learned not every fire is meant to be put out. Some are meant to be carried—carefully, purposefully—like the flame of the cigar. Like the weight of a name. See, this chair has held him in silence. The cigar has marked his thoughts in smoke. And through both, the man is forged. Not in chaos. But in calm. Not in rush. But in rhythm. He doesn’t always speak. But when he does—it’s with the authority of a man who’s wrestled with time and come out wiser. Because sometimes… you don’t need a crowd to know you’re a man. Just a chair. A cigar. And the willingness to sit with who you really are. 

Written by The Boss, Founder of DapperChaz.