It Is

It is not
the surrounding dark
with its things that go bump
that causes fear
to grip my heart.
It is not
the cold, tentacle-like
fingers of age and decline
that causes fear
to crease my face.
It is not
the truth, universally acknowledged
of the ever-present demise of life
that causes fear
to wrack my brain.
It is not
the foregone conclusion
that mankind is coming undone
that causes fear
to prick my consciousness.
It is
the knowledge that my success or failure
rests solely on the shoulders
of one who allows fear
to have any place at all. 

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