To not exist frightens some
terrified of what's beyond
by the writ of dogma's word
or question mark more profound

as if demise is a doom
not the blessing of nature's grace
sympathetic to all men
wrapped in mysteries beyond insight

no prey is sought by the void
instead the rhythms seek their own
karma wed to cyclic storms
prompts alarm where none is meant

all will fall between the cracks
when the surface is meant to split
time is measured by those who stay
before the cleft expands once more

if our fates were prolonged
beyond the time breaths bequeath
that peace found outside of strife
would escape the tortured souls

madness tips the scales to view
by the wisdom's virtue or sadder means
comfort found in what most may fear
mysteries explored by journeying forth.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180911.