Age of Terror

Age of Terror 

Our lives are now longer and full of more things
yet all of us bathe in a thick pool of fear.
Stagnating I notice a current or stream,
that leads from this pool I can not revere.

I enter it slowly and notice it’s cool,
while others around me believe I’m a nut,
that blindly chasing a stream like a fool,
will lead me to nowhere except in a rut.

There’s needs that this pool provides for they say,
and leaving the pool will lead to no good,
The boxes we stare at will show us the way
to take care of ought to and better and should.

But I taste the salt in the pool from our tears,
and notice the stream is pure where it flows,
discover that maybe escaping our fears,
goes straight through the places that nobody knows.

For life can’t be better if we’re always waiting,
staring at boxes and staying in hiding,
never exploring the terrorists’ hating,
pretending we’re safe, and never confiding

with those that we love the fear that we feel
for fear that they’ll shove us out of the pool,
when they’re hating also and not being real,
and thus is our life, so lonely and cruel.

But out of this pool is where the stream leads,
and I start to swim, forgetting those needs.