lost.

anyone can see it

the fear that rises up 

from somewhere so 

dark. 

you're afraid to look there. 

what is it, love, that makes you tremble in the sunshine?

the loud, dangerous, beautiful world that is.

Life, so fleeting -- like birds on a line,

first full, heavy 

with burdens which bring great joy
and knowledge
and music
but constantly changing,
each little burden called away
by some greater cause,
or blown away by harsh winds,
or frightened by the great,
loud,
dangerous,
beautiful world that is.