We are afraid because it happens very seldom.
Like a train of thought you wanted to write
But suddenly slipped right before your mind.
Thinking that it will not leave your sight
Yet you are uncertain where to look for this rare find.

We are afraid for it might be the last.
Like the remaining pages of a chapter in a book
With characters to whom you were truly hooked.
Waited and waited for a sequel that would not come,
Build up, for you, dear friend, there will be none.

We are afraid that's why we give it all.
As if it was the last poem you will ever write,
Even though knowing that your thought process is an endless river,
Flowing and fighting with all of its mastery and might,
That in one piece you were wishing you are a character in someone's sonder.

We are afraid yet we hope it would for different reasons.
That it will be uncertainties out of unspeakable beauty and bravery,
In a time when there's an us to contemplate and conjure thoughts if we are real and ready.
That fear itself befriends you and becomes your help,
For fear is personified as someone familiar who is no more than the self.