Fear, and all things fear your breath
And that only when it’s too damn cold;
Yours is not the source after all. Even so, it lasts for but seconds in bold
Neon colours; reckon, then, the shadow in stealth
And sign of something more than simple breathing?
Fear Creation and even more the Creator and all things fear you.
Accept both fear and trepidation and all souls pursue
Your death warrant or leave in peace; effects, the boiling broth to seething
Steeps wherever there are causes. Success is the flirt,
You know and equally victorious, they flash those teeth,
Those canines, those barbed corals on the reef
And their guardians the rays, those who give a damn, and if you’re not alert
Before they’re through, they make you know how much they love you.
For them, it’s in the index or more than likely in the brew.
So come, then, to blows, perhaps, but never to the clues
Beyond the observations of the moment, contemplations viewed,
As thoughts and dwelling caves for the more or less sincerely
Involved. But, there’s the point! There is no point, the hour sees
Itself to the arbiter to the end that in the conclusion there may well be
A reckoning within the chance occasion between the you and me,
Wrapped in conspicuous consumption until the advent of a third cares to listen.
Does the sun in glory truly set itself against its own fall
Whatever solutions unify his children nor their enemies withal?
True it is that early morning chill and dews that glisten
Do not last the hour to noon, and neither shall
They serve the moment’s view as all fortune will burn
The whole, and while the part inevitably returns
To haunt the memory, it does not touch the soul,
And if there’s something whispering in the gold,
It’s not the detail, not the story told,
Not a weakness in the strong, nor cowardice in bold,
But rather the humanity’s rôle for the moment sold,
(It’s true!) at times for the innocuous cup of coffee, Esau’s bowl
Of soup to while away the time until the final train departs, and gone.