Two Short Poems on Stuff

The fields of sorrow are reaped daily by those who know naught what they fear. For it is us who walk these dry lands with our heads down and bodies heavy. The heart that pumps so vigorously cannot stand the sorrow of another loss, and yet we keep going as if some unknowing presence pushes each of us forward, toward a goal that seems unattainable. In the end we are all alike alone, dark, and hungry. We are hungry for the vision of life, for the feel of the rays of a new sun, to know the feeling of undying love. For today is the day that I died and left the people and the world I knew behind me for a place that cannot be said in words. Today is today.........

Fear

What drives one man to cower from another? Is it the way that he looks at this man, or is it something deep within his out being that forces the courage from within, that would make him his own master. Yet I ponder upon this and nothing else, as day turns to night and the known becomes unknown, what makes it so?