we know death awaits,
an insatiabble, grining enemy
lurking, waiting, ever patient,
perhaps around the corner,
like the ripper he is,
gutting our bodies and stealing
away in the dark
to find his next victim.
but no one believes it.

confined by that knowledge
and disbelief we live
in shadows and fear the light.
but some demented, deluded souls,
like cavemen burned by the fire,
scream out, 'I AM.'
driven by demons within,
they seek to set the world ablaze,
that the rest may burn with same intensity.
we call these poets.