O mighty is the man who knows the taste
Of fear and yet still sits to dine again
The man whose world has once been lain to waste
Yet from its ashes willingly ascends.
Though I have wished to spurn him from my side,
A clumsy savior, fear has often been.
But terror’s shape is known to coincide
With monsters handed down from kin to kin.
And so I let my trepidation speak
Although his council governs not my course.
For hubris, in its way, is for the weak,
And confidence both wins and loses wars.
So mighty is the man whose chambered heart
Holds fortitude and fear in equal part.