PoeticFlows

The Deer

A dark night filled with deep lament,

A wolf howls with predatory intent,

The deer do not fear him though,

Death cannot frighten them so.

 

We sit in the comfort of a home,

Knowing we have years until the catacomb,

Fiercely searching for answers in a tome,

Thinking death is merely a syndrome,

 

Maybe we should strive to be like the deer,

Instead of living as another King Lear,

No longer living in fear,

Perhaps, we should live right here.