What doth bring us forth from the womb?
What doth drive us into the great perhaps?
What then to make ourselves a tomb?
What do we revere enough to keep inside?
Wherefore do we begin our tumultuous journey then?
Hark to the birds ere the sunrise.
We must stomp through the world
Only to be bequeathed by it's beauty.
What drives us forth?
Tis neither love, nor hate, nor our own will.
Tis the most primal sense.
Fear doth drive us to go forth and face it.
We face our fears to stop them from their effect.
Nay, not for the noble cause of life and the grave.
Fear is not a bad happening.
Fools we be with out such.
Embrace the world outside your door.