What use worry
with its hurry –
finding danger
in fate’s finger,
and with fear’s gloss
opting for loss
instead of bliss?
Why choose to miss
life’s subtle tastes?
What a sad waste –
seeing devils
in time’s revels,
and in life, care,
not for what’s there
but hidden threats,
not happened yets;
with only death
chasing each breath,
filling days out
with crippling doubt.
21 FEB 2017
