FEAR

There are but two things in life, as we know it,
We mortals tend to fear:
Pain, which we constantly strive to avoid,
And death, which is always near.

Would you put your hand into a vice
And turn the screws until bone was dust?
I dare say you wouldn't. The pain would be far
Too much for one to tolerate.
But if passion guides our will or
If we're bound to mend a broken trust,
The fires of Hell may not be goad
To make us pause or hesitate.

The Reaper bares his shadowy scythe,
Forbearance to the dark unknown,
Foreteller of a fated end,
Beleaguering a troubled mind.
It is this great unknowing which
Gives cause and pause to fear.
The grand regrets of things undone,
Of loved ones sadly left behind.

There may be more for us to fear
But somehow they are all connected.
Pain and Death are parents to
All fear... imagined or collected.

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