Fear does not grip the heart that yearns for love.
His haunting eyes and angry stature do not quake the
compassion I find within myself.
Simpler times flash in front of me like
the lightning's wrath let down.
They make me weary, weathered and sullen,
and yet they make me alive.
Shadows that slither down the empty walls
giving all a fright,
are merely shapes and silhouettes that I can't see at all.
Time does play with the mind,
that wanders on and on.
But love does fight with this fear that
never could be strong.