The fear that hangs around my death.

  The air is crisp upon my breath,
  The fear that hangs around my death.
The lark that sings it's deep blue sky,
The clouds that hollers its time to die.
  The foaming stream that windes its way,
  The hope that there's another day.
The bitter sweet of loves own smell,
The fiery furnace of life's own hell.
  The burden of what life can tell,
  The peaceful chime of times own bell.
The savaged breast of child in cry,
The sound that makes us born to try.
  The clock that calls its final tail,
  The frozen cauldron of ships in sail.
The peace of angels abound with hope,
The darkened hangman surrounds his rope.
  The frantic horror of life's last breath,
  The fear that hangs around my death.