Creatures in the night

Mysterious enigma,
The root of our deepest fears,
Planting the seed of imagination,
That's what scares us.

Because we like to be certain,
Even though I am nothing without imagination,
I wish my thoughts would live without me;
The woman my thoughts were about are hiding from me,
Because of the fear that it brought me.

And I still keep my baby thoughts beside me,
Like the nightstand I sleep beside,
Like my mother's jewelry.
Because although neither are here anymore,
They remind me of who I was and I have to keep up with that.

Whether I get cold feet,
Or in my old age forget my own name,
These events are destined to be things I want to give everything to,
No matter how superficial the things,
Or significant, like my mother's death.

I am just a civilian,
A walker of flat plains,
But with that comes mystery,
Because I ultimately make the decisions of what I will take and what I will let pass,
Since I am the creator of my own destiny.

So when the future looks dark and scary,
Like the creatures in the night of my imagination,
I stand vigilant,
Like a postcard;
And image, not a living memory,
I am unshakable.