Fears (Reprise)

Confession:
If John Keats was so bold
Then let my humble words be an echo to his
When I speak for humanity in agreement
Of this sly dragon who creeps behind us
Stalks us slowly, then stops
Rubs its head up to ours
And purrs softly into our ears

We wince almost imperceptibly
Because by now we know this hunter
Who hastens at our heels but never strikes
It would be better if he did finally strike
But anticipation is its greatest weapon
And our worst vice

"When I have fears that I may cease to be"
That's not the real sentiment here, is it really? Get to the root.
Let my words be burned up
Let me fly to the other world tomorrow
And my assurance will not waver there
Rather, our fears lie in the crevices
They are rutted deep into the tiny cracks under our fingernails
It's the little monsters we fear.

I look to the ones I love
And the bonds of attachment twinge and tighten
We never admit it, but the feeling remains
I fear the pain that comes with love, including me and them,
That death, separation, or loss of affection
Will one day come, inevitable as truth finding a lie

I fear my faith, I fear it is a speck of dust
And a mustard seed is too lofty of a hope
For these faithless eyes that depend so on grace and without it,
Cannot find footing of their own
I fear not the God who does not hear my prayers
But I fear the God who listens and remains silent
For anger is bearable, harsh words are bearable
But silence is as sweet as the blast of a gun to the ear

I have fears that the love and forgiveness I so boldly profess
Misrepresent so cruelly the giver of those gifts
My works, hard as I may try
Will not withstand the flames on that blessed day
And will be burned up like straw
I search, I seek, I claw the ground for grace

Most of all, I fear these confessions
Though I have heard the idea a thousand times renounced
I fear that the God who called me once to restoration
Will see now the extent of my follies and reject this traitor of the faith
But to give hold to such ideas is to give a greater offense
To the one who through and by and for all things are made and sustained
For if all else I fear of my wickedness, the one thing in which I must believe
Is that there is one stronger than that wickedness to overcome

I have fears, and the dragon stalks me still
He may run into my path, make me stumble
But I don't fear he will sink his teeth into me
Most of us have little monsters, Mr. Keats, he had demon behemoths
But I don't think that fact really matters...
The dragon found him, but not us.

It doesn't have to.