In a dark room sits two chairs.

As I meet an old friend there,

On one I sat and held my breathe

Looking square in the face of death.

Death of dreams, and death of life,

Death of expectations flown to heights

Old and new, black and white

This old friend came into sight.

“You’re back again.” I slowly sigh

Knowing of their return and why.

Death looked dark and hope like fear

Of losing secret prayers held dear.

I don’t recall who introduced us then.

We have been friends since way back when.

For years and years I have run away.

Silently, slowly, he has returned each day

With the fear, wrath, and pain

Wrapping me up and pouring champagne.

Popping the cork and spreading the seed,

More fruitful than the fiercest weed.

From this wine I did partake

Slowly filling me with bone deep ache

For light to flood this narrow space

Save me now and win this race

Against a companion always here

Finding me, shaping me year after year.

When with fear will I make my peace,

Let the anger and striving cease?

Can it happen, is it feasible?

Can I make it something teachable

Can I soften fear with kindness

For myself and humankind is

Weary, oh so weary of meeting you there,

In this dark room, on that old tired chair.

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