Fears

Fear to lose control. Fear to lose yourself. Fear to be misunderstood. I step, I walk, I move. In this ancient art of living I find my bones shivering, in this restless scenery where nothing moves, yet nothing stops. What do you fear? Do you fear the beast called love? Do you fear an empty apartment? Do you fear the all-mighty God? Do you fear the day after, the endless light or the blood-colored blaster? Come clean, come on. Fears are the strings that move our wooden arms, our wooden legs, having us all jumping here and there like a marching band of rabbits. How would you like to know that those strings are imaginary? What would you do if I cut you loose and set you free? Would you feel happy? What would you do? Would you remain standing? or would you collapse? Or would you then fear than you have no fears at last?