Upon the deck of a graceful ship,

With sails filled with an ocean breeze,

Gazing into the azure depths,

A man both young and old,

Hearing the creak of the timbers, the lapping of the waves,

And yet he has ceased to listen,

Ceased to look,

To think.

He feels the gentle touch of the air upon his face,

That is ravaged not by the time as what lies below.

Beneath his mask of youth,

So carefully made,

With such great caution maintained.

To conceal the terror that lies beneath,

That he runs from in fear.

In denial, disbelief,

In ignorance he fears,

Fears what cannot be escaped.

He runs not from man, or wolf or bear,

He runs what cannot be bound, what cannot be killed,

What cannot be defeated,

What cannot be deterred.

He runs not from man or beast,

Runs not from himself.

He fears his fear, and runs from what he fears,

Climbing mountains,

Sailing over seas.

To escape the demons,

So firmly bound to him.

Who stalk his every step,

As he worries they have not relented or been deceived.

As he fears, so it will be.

That when he says "Further I shall sail, for they are yet almost upon me!"

That they are stalking him closely.

As he fears that he glimpsed them in the dark,

They come to torment him with fear of their arrival.

He makes them from the dark with his fear of it,

And draws them forth with fear of them.

He fears his own creation, what he has birthed unwillingly,

And yet not entirely unwittingly.

He knows his weakness, and yet he dare not confront it.

As he fears a life without his fear,

Fears the life,

Where he is bound.

Fears the life,

Where resides restraint.

Fears the life,

Wherein lies hate.