Fear

They speak of fear and think of death
They think of torture and of pain
They think of loss of being bereft
Of all their spoils and gain
When they speak of fear

But fearmongers such as these little thugs
Do not understand the glory of fear
Their minds are broken half-caf tea mugs
And they slime every window and mirror
They don't know real fear

The fear that makes supermen small
That sees the quarks and atoms of trees
And the stars and comets, in the universe, all
And still dares to speak to the creator of these
A constructive fear

That allows growth through humility
Finds faith and hope through futility
That knows the lack of ability
This fear of the Lord


God bless,
>P<
Joshua Fahey