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.