Let me cradle myself back Into the darkness Of the half shapes. . . Of the cauled beginnings. . . Let me stir the attar of unused air, Elusive. . . ironically fragrant As a dead queen's kerchief. . . Let me blow the dust from off you. . . Resurrect your breath Lying limp as a fan In a dead queen's hand.
He who says, "I know no fear," is no hero. No man knows courage unless he does know fear, and has that in him which is superior to fear, and conquers it.