Fear is and Music

FEAR IS

Fear is the time killer.

It consumes our precious memories.

It crushes bright and happy thoughts.

It prevents us from living in the present, in the now.

It controls thoughts and ideas of what we contemplate for our future.

Fear prevents us from moving ahead or escaping from what we've done in the past that we may not be proud of, or wish to remember.

Fear keeps us from taking a step forward; a move to what we could do that, when walking through that door would bring beneficial change and enlightenment.

Fear cheats us of our health: physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It clouds our mind and ability to think clearly.

Fear haunts our evenings and our dreams. It shatters our night's sleep.

Fear is as destructive and harmful as any disease, it clings to us, and it can kill us.

When Fear approaches us, acknowledge it, but don't allow it entry.

If it sneaks in, as it is wont to do, push Fear out. Pray. Empty your thoughts of anything negative and meditate on what brings you clarity, peace, tranquility, and delight.

Each time you do this, as you learn to, it will become easier and more comforting - and you can then become separate from it.

When you free it:

FEAR IS... GONE

I lie on my bed, so asking my pillow with my tears.

I try to remember exactly what it is that I fear.

Is it the passing of time or the love that I lack?

Is it the mistakes that I've made or the fact that I can't bring the past back?

What is it that I'm afraid of?

Why am I so scared?

Is it the people I've hurt or the people who've hurt me?

Am I afraid of everything that I can't seem to see?

Is it the love of a friend or the loss of my family?

Is it the possibility that my life can end in a tragedy?

What is it that I fear most?

What do my eyes say I'm scared of?

Is it the sun that sets but won't seem to rise?

Is it the hope that I have that always seems to die?

Is it the trust of a person that I cannot begin to grasp?

Is it all the memories of my horrid past?

Is it me?

Can it possibly be that the thing I fear most is the thing I can't be?

The things that I try to understand?

The me that I try to be with when I'm feeling sad?

The person I'm expected to be? Is that what I fear?

I think the thing I fear most...is me.

Published by Family Friend Poems October 2009 with permission of the author.

MUSIC

Music may be a language considered more versatile than the spoken word, or the written word.

Regardless of your ethnic or ancestral origins, music is understood by all that hear or create it. Music is universal and needs no translation.

The languages of music are the different genres. The dialects are the different styles and moods within each dialect.

With just seven notes, their respective sharps, flats, and octaves, MUSIC: Paints a pastoral scene. A tumultuous storm. It draws out a moment of sheer joy. It sets our mind free of worry and moves our body to whirl and dance, forgetting all else but the enjoyment of the song.

It is likely music was made, was played, before man had the gift of speech.

Music mimics the song of a bird. The susurration of a brook. The wind swirling through the high, craggy mountains and trees lining the riverside. It resounds like a thundering storm. And whispers like Spring blossoms drifting down on a new summer's breeze to verdant hills and mossy rocks.

Music is the echo of the beauty of the earth and the pulse of The Creator. Music is eternal. And magic...

POETRY

T is you that are the music, not your melody .

The melody is nevertheless an entryway which, opening wide,

Lets forward the repressed tune inside,

Your soul's agreement, which clear areas of strength for and

Sing yet of you. All through your entire long lasting

Your melodies, your thoughts, your doings, each separation

This ideal magnificence; waves inside a tide,

Or on the other hand single notes in the midst of a wonderful crowd.

The melody of earth has a wide range of harmonies;

Sea has numerous temperaments and a huge number

However consistently sea. In the moist Spring woods

The painted trillium grins, while fresh pine cones

Fall alone can age. This is as well

One music with 1,000 rhythms.