The neighbours gasped as the horse bolted.
What terrible luck! It could mean doom!
The farmer was patient as time unfolded.
Sure enough, a pack of horses returned soon.

More bad luck befell the farmer’s son
Who broke his leg falling from the mare.
The farmer felt there was little to be done.
The neighbours wondered why he didn’t care.

When war broke out, the conscriptors came.
The neighbours knew their kids might end up dead.
The farmer’s son was considered too lame.
‘Let the story finish itself’ is all he said.

Shared with Poetic Bloomings #568 – Nuanced Nuisance.
A poetic take on this Taoist fable:
An old farmer lived near the frontier with his son and a single horse. One morning, they woke to find the horse had broken through the fence and run away.
The neighbours gathered, shaking their heads sympathetically. “How terrible!” they said. “You’ve lost your only horse. What bad luck!”
The farmer listened quietly, then shrugged. “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
A week later, the horse returned—but not alone. It had joined a herd of wild horses and led them all back to the farm. Suddenly, the farmer owned a dozen magnificent animals.
The same neighbours returned, their eyes bright with admiration. “How wonderful!” they exclaimed. “You’re rich now! What incredible fortune!”
Again, the farmer listened calmly. “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
The next month, while trying to tame one of the wild horses, the farmer’s son was thrown violently and broke his leg. He would walk with a limp for the rest of his life.
Back came the neighbours, their faces creased with concern. “How awful!” they cried. “Your poor son! What a terrible thing to happen!”
The farmer tended his son’s wound and replied as before: “Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”
The following spring, war broke out. Military officers swept through the village, conscripting every able-bodied young man for the army. When they came to the farmer’s house and saw his limping son, they passed him by.
The neighbours, whose own sons had been taken to fight in a distant war, returned once more. “How fortunate!” they said, their voices mixed with envy and relief. “Your son gets to stay home because of his injury. What a blessing in disguise!”
The old farmer looked across his fields where his son worked contentedly among the horses, and smiled his familiar smile.
“Maybe so, maybe not. We’ll see.”