a fear of fear

on the back of my mind, lurks a fear of a fear

i limelight it, and the breathing goes heavier;

it saps, saps and saps, all of my energy, i fear

also the pit in my stomach, i owe to the fear.

i climb on good moments, slid much on the fear

loose footing to feel the nausea, and darkness;

until a light shines briefly, diminished by the fear

back i topple, until there is a moment to lighten.

i am afraid to even think of the fear, fear of fear

as the world dims around me, i sink in the fear;

mere floating blurbs,  i’m left with just the fear,

drains me, i feel desolate alone, amidst the fear.

for its myth, not for its presence, pure evil is my fear

a constant reminder, of a probable, awaits my fear;

 helpless and alone, i feel no one who sees this fear

do i get on with it, get over it, or stay on this fear?

it’s not stupid, can’t talk me out of my fear of fear

it robs me of my good moments, i damn this fear;

for i wage with fear itself, and also the fear of fear

doesn’t stop, just dims, i move away from this fear.

on the back of my mind, lurks a fear of a fear.

why so serene

i hold the soft palms, lead me where you want

the same memory lane for us, find a meaning;

i come along on all your thoughts, comfort line

i settle for this, or the next line,i think over that.

you  are there, and with me, two places always

i am here, and with you, us, four places always;

hold on, don’t say, this is just a passing phase,

with me, it comes back to quiet, as it is always.

there’s a caress, and i believe no bad in the world,

the nose tickle, and my thoughts call my smile;

your smiles and tears, not slightly on me, more so ever

shall i say, i don’t know any of your unsaid thoughts.

like a surfer, resonant with time, past and the future

i surf along, good i laugh, bad i shrug, and i keep still;

for you, there’s a peak, there are thoughts, and more

i have no idea, but for the palms, time and the caress.

all this passes, eons of time remain as mere moments

all words, thoughts and feelings, called ‘a good time’

for time makes you forget the best of times, totally

once there, it’s easy to move on, if you trust time.

it’s not possible, it’s me, and me, it’s quiet going always

hold on, don’t say, this is just a passing phase, illusional

with me, it comes back to quiet, as it is always. hold on,

hold on to me, i hold your palms, nothing more and less.