Augury

The sight of a peacock gladdens my heart. Is this because it's a form of fine art? Good things are going to happen, my mind says. Is a peacock, in any way, a whiz? A black cat crosses my day-to-day way. I am doomed—in my heart of hearts, I say. Impulsively I press the reverse gear. The sounds of souls and ghosts, within I hear While the squeak of a squirrel is a fun At the sight of an owl, why should I run? Fear of death strikes me when I see a bat. Diseases cease me when seeing a rat. Why should blossoms fear the thorns around them? Should, for the whims of snakes, the birds succumb? Doesn't the sense of fear dwell in one's mind? Shutting the sight of faith, should one be blind?