Fear
View the past.
In memory alone it has existence.
What, then, the cause to fear?
The present.
Each sound and image gone with fleeting moment.
What, then, the cause to fear?
Yet to be,
what may the future hold, anticipated,
is but a cause of fear.
Curious,
those things which yet are not, and have no being
grip strong with cruelty.
A year gone –
but, daily, thresholds threaten the complacent
who seek refuge from fear.
Certainty
is not for me to gift; nor to be given.
This is no cause for fear.
© Simon J Ashcroft, 2022
