‘Tis common, thou know’st; Fear dwells among us.
Woe be to him who thinks he can escape.
It dwell’st inside thy limbs, turns heart to dust,
And circles round thy neck as a black cape
Of darkness and trembling and shadows of the abyss
Where light, nevermore, can shroud you in its bliss.
But here, only here, can you see the spirit divine
And grasp its hand to glimpse the place where twines
Light and dark in twilight. Among colors of purple blue pink and red
There catches the lovely reflecting light of where there exists no dread.
In this night-day when angel painters stretch their arms to paint the sky,
The darkness of your shadow seems to pale until out of sight.
In the scheme of things in this wild, untamed earth, there is little heed for its citizens and cities and archetypical arts.
It does not mind your fears or woes or capes made of shadows or incomes or well-dones or jobs or clothes.
It does not care for your worries and hurries and lusty fights or lonely nights or battles done or conquests won or good days or what’s to come.