All of us are travelers lost,
out tickets arranged at cost
unknown but beyond our means.
This odd itinerary of scenes
- enigmatic, strange, unreal -
leaves us unsure how to feel.
No postmortem journey is rife
with more mystery than life.

Tremulous skeins of destiny
flutter so ethereally
around me - but then I feel
its embrace is that of steel.

On the road that I taken,
one day, walking, I awaken,
amazed to see where I have come,
where I'm going, where I'm from.

This is not the path I thought.
This is not the place I sought.
This is not the dream I bought,
just a fever of fate I've caught.

I'll change highways in a while,
at the crossroads, one more mile.
My path is lit by my own fire.
I'm going only where I desire.

On the road that I have taken,
one day, walking, I awaken.
One Day, walking, I awaken,
on the road that I have taken.

Whiskers of the cat,
webbed toes on my swimming dog:
God is in the details.

In the real world
as in dreams,
nothing is quite
what it seems.

We have weight to carry
a distance we must go.
We have a weight to carry,
a destination we can't know.
We have a weight to carry
and can out it down nowhere.
We are the weight to carry
from there to here to there.

Stone
Crumbles.
Wood Rots.
People, Well
They Die.

But Things
As Fragile As

A Thought

A Dream

A Legend

They Can Go
On And On


- Chuck Palahnuik

If I killed myself tonight, the stars would
Still appear, the sun would still come
Out, the earth would still rotate, the
Seasons would still change ... So why not?

Hope is the destination that we seek.
Love is the road that leads to hope.
Courage is the motor that drives us.
We travel out of darkness into faith.

When the sun sets and the moon rises,

The demons come out to play,
with the minds of the innocent.
Torturing them with cruel words, cruel intentions.

And what if the innocent play along?
Are they really so innocent.
Torturing themselves with cruel words, cruel intentions.

Drowning in the hopelessness of the innocent.

Breathing seems like a job,

Death seems like a chore.

Living is hell.

Nightmares.

The innocent succumb to the demons.

Is Life my best friend?
Was he always there?
I can’t remember.
All I know is my name
Who am I?
Was I alive?
I don’t know.
I don’t understand the rest
There is little I know.
I realize what I am
My name is Death

- Nicholas Boss

The sky is deep, the sky is dark,
The light of stars is so **** stark.
When I look up, I fill with fear.
If all we have is what lies here,
this lonely world, this troubled place,
then cold dead stars and empty space . . .
Well, I see no reason to persevere,
no reason to laugh or shed a tear,
no reason to sleep or ever to wake,
no promises to keep, and none to make.
And so at night I still raise my eyes
to study the clear but mysterious skies --
that arch above us, as cold as stone.
Are you there, God? Are we alone?

To see what we have never seen,
to be what we have never been.
To shed the chrysalis and fly,
depart the earth, kiss the sky,
to be reborn, be someone new:
is this a dream or is it true?

Can our future be cleanly shorn
from a life to which we're born?
Is each of us a creature free -
or trapped at birth by destiny?
Pity those who believe the latter.
Without freedom, nothing matters.

In the real world
as in dreams
nothing is quite
what it seems.

Why are we afraid of the dark?
Doesn’t it happen at the end of every day?
Why are we scared of the dark?

Are we afraid because we cannot see? Are we afraid because we lose our most used sense? Is that why? Do we feel more vulnerable because we become weaker in the dark? More vulnerable to what though? are we afraid because we don't know what is out there? Is it because we can't see where anything is or could be? Are we afraid because we don't know anything in the dark? Are we afraid of not knowing? are we afraid of the possibilities of what could happen? Are we afraid of the unknown? If that is so why do we not seek to understand more so that we fear less? is it because we don't want to know? Are we afraid of the truth? Are we afraid of the light? No, no that can't be, could it? Are we afraid of having no light? Are we afraid of having no warmth? Are we afraid of the cold? Is the cold the feeling of not knowing? Are we afraid because we don't understand? Are we afraid to ask questions? Why? Are we afraid of the answers? Do we know the answers? Then what is the question? Are we afraid because we do not know the questions? Are we afraid to ask what the question is? What do we have to ask to learn the question? Do we not know what it is that we must learn to ask? Are we afraid to ask? Are we afraid to learn? Are we afraid to know? What is the question? Is it why are we afraid? Is it are we afraid? Why do we ask questions? Is it because we want answers? Why do we want answers? Is it because we want To know? Why do we want to know? Is it so we can ask? What do we want to ask? Is it what is our question? Is it the unknown? Is it what do we know? Are we afraid of what we do know? Are we afraid of the past? Is it the present?  Is it the future? Are we afraid of the end? Are we afraid of the beginning? Are we afraid of life? Are we afraid of our lives? Are we afraid of ourselves? Are we afraid of our fears? Why? Why do we fear what we do not know? Are we afraid of our questions? Are we scared that we don't know what we do not know? Are we afraid that we don't know our questions?

What are our questions?
Do we know our questions?
Do I know what is my question?
What is my question?

Why do we fear the dark?

My answer?

Yes.



Inspired by
The night and
The darkness known
As fear that we all hold in our hearts