Companions

Like sheep we huddle,

Or rabbits in winter.

Hiding from the truth

In drink or company,

In routines and mimicry.

To dull our minds

Slow the thoughts, so treacherous.

For though we rub shoulder, crowded

In rooms like sardines. Knock back

The fire in an attempt

To pierce these walls that

surround us. Failing each

and every time.



And when night falls, and we

Lie in bed listening to each holting

Fragile breath, In the darkness each

Carefully crafted painting, fair

Illusion is torn apart.

Our personal shelters thrown down, and we

Are forced to face, to

Listen to, that thought which we deny.

Refuse to acknowledge from fear that

It is right. That we are,

Have been and always will be

Alone.

It chills us to the bone.



An empty haunting terror that

Is precede by but one other.

That one lie which we forget

And bury even deeper.

Lie only because it contradicts

That truth which we

All too readily accept, simply

To stop that fear which

runs deeper still.



A fear which the winds of time

slowly unbury. Magnified,

and amplified by

emptiness of places past.

When we are alone

in every way but sense

another presence. A shape,

a form, a name just on

the edge of vision, the tip

of tongue.

The Eternal Companion of all.



Children know, and give it a face, a

name. Wrong, quickly forgotten.

That rightful terror drowned out by

the loudness of ignorance.

As we grow older we hear,

a name, yet blind

our eye. Silent now in

our defence, as we

pretend there is nothing,

noone to defy.



Hollow arrogance? Courage, confidence.

Acts, parts we play so well.

Fool ourselves even, for a time.

But time ticks on, clocks' endless tock,

beating heart, water on cold stone.

Youth fades, the trick is done.

But the end of foolery has not come,

and so we run.



Run. Run far, fast, unfaltering to

the Companion always one step ahead.