When the first child stood,
Wobbled on feet unsure,
A tremor gripped their tiny heart,
Fear whispered: “You’ll fall, be poor.”
And fear was born that day,
Crawling in, dark as night,
Hiding where the shadows play,
Lurking out of sight.

The child, afraid to move or stand,
Clung to the earth, soft and cold,
Bound by fear’s unsteady hand,
Told that walking was too bold.

But one day, with trembling grace,
The child stood and looked ahead,
And when they faced the world in place,
They faced the fear with eyes so red.

For fear had never seen such light,
Had never known such courage bright,
It shook and shied from what it knew—
The eyes of light, a piercing view.

Fear quivered, afraid to fight,
It closed its eyes and fled the sight,
It threw them far, into the deep,
And hid in shadows, cold and steep.

Now, fear, when seeking to come near,
Hides from eyes that shine so clear,
It creeps from behind, in silent fright,
Afraid to face the steady light.

For fear has learned what it must do—
It hides where light cannot break through,
And only when the dark is near,
Can it find the souls it seeks to fear.

But those who stand with open eyes,
Will always see through fear’s disguise.