The Fear

I have gotten the Fear,  it is a common anomaly of such subtle intricacy.  The fear that every waking moment is only an unraveling of the threads of the fabric of space and time.  The tapestry can only look so vivid when the fibers mesh together and compress into that vast 2 dimensional plane.  I cannot be as beautiful being only a strand of string floating and congealing on the meniscus of the sea of space in the grand beaker thrown into the centrifuge to be evaluated and determine that in fact the secret to life was that we were never the only ones and that there are many secrets. 

How can we unravel a mystery when the strings within our ball of yarn are only in fact many tiny strings composed of even smaller balls of yarn too small for our hands to reach.  I still have the fear.

The greatest fear we have about our own paranoia is that it was in fact ______.  the light slowly reveals the mass of fur and muscle and the shimmering pool of an opaque black lake that rests in the crater of the dormant volcanic peak that is the eye of the beast.  It was never the fact that he is there now but it was the fact that we thought we were safe the whole time while the monsters inevitably sat and waited by our sides.

  the fear disables me from living,  the fear enables me to stay alive,  in all I am left unfinished, unresolved, undone.