MANDALA OF THOUGHT

The sky is gray.
Fear looking for prey,
His familiar voice
Echoing his unsure choice.
He is old;
His skin is cold.
Is his soul sold?
He stumbles looking for a place to hide,
Remembering fear's grotesque evil side.
Hope is one of his only friends.
Unsteady feelings does it mend.
The night is long and bright.
The sight of fear brings fright,
Darkness all around him,
One day he will see.