I yearn to go to that place
Where anxiety’s just a myth
Where the heart is calm and sleepy
By the brook of bubbling blyth
No surging voices and words
That hastens the cadence of blood
Or the sense of impending doom
That urges the fear to flood
Where the heart is no more than a bird
That’s resting on a twig without flight
No more hammering pulse in the fists
Indecisive of sprint or fight
The startles are nothing but nice
The darkness is a ladder to the light
The beginnings are always the biggest
The endings are gratifying and right
There is a trail that leads to that place
Not a smooth and silky way, though
Through the woods of fear it snakes
Towards a land where anxiety is no more
It’s a matter of choice to walk that path
If you dare to cross that wood
Have you enough courage to muster
You’ll b free of that torture for good