Fear and Art

I wasn't afraid before.
All that was fear
Hope was being trampled on
But it was still too early.
Fourteen over eleven.

Yesterday, for the first time I was afraid.
Everything I didn't know
Was revealed by disillusionment
Perhaps there was still time.
Sixteen over twelve.

Today, fear enveloped me.
All that I know now
It was solidified by the reality.
There is no time anymore.
Seventeen over eleven.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow.
Only fear will remain.
I don't know what will come
Of the cornered fate.
Twenty over twelve.

I bleed.
Literally.
Metaphorically.
Fear is no longer for me.
Fear is for you. Was yours, always.
It's the fear of losing you,
Of leaving and to forget you.

The pressure now is just for knowing how to wait
The flame consuming the boat
Carried in the kisses of the wave and the wind
To an unknown island that doesn't
Exists and that, when found, will serve
Just as a breath of fresh air for someone who,
At the end, won't even have lived
For nothing, or, only,
To become art.