Fear Poem by Scott J. Shepard

As a wild, ancient art
I believe in the fear
that man bonds to.

Stern and savage,
enriched and condemned
ways of living her
resourceful ways.

Wise and terrible,
created and inspected,
then realized,
temporary and bodied.

Like the herd that follows the crown
the latter must be deeper fixed.

That the wicked is ignorant
a momentary body,
the soul must understand.

That fear forms in each human soul,
whose jaws, like the unfolding of merit,
beg only to speak that which is good.

A longing to always return.