Nothing to fear but fear itself… and death, there’s always death.

It’s not that I fear death,
it’s that I fear it will steal something precious from me.
It will steal my guide.
It will steal my shoulder.
It will steal our time, it should leave us be.
It will steal you before I really know you as I should.
Then again, I don’t think I’ll ever know you as I’d like.
Or as I could. Continue reading “Nothing to fear but fear itself… and death, there’s always death.”