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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Scary

Life is scary.
Sometimes,
half the time,
sometimes a little,
a moment, an hour,
sometimes only in my dreams.
But what’s the point
of losing my nerve?
If I become mute
and never speak again?
It would be like a songbird
without its song.
Could happen.
Life returned to silence.
The earth without its birds,
without its songs,
longer than time itself.

Scary.
Not suffering.
Just that light had never happened,
until stars
shattered the darkness,
before then,
everything was eternally invisible.
Scary.
So why should I
be afraid of tomorrow?
The next millennium?
That I would be alone,
and never have the peace
of sleeping as I slept before?
Waking up
to love my sacred ones,
and being afraid
of losing them.

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