86. 
What then is bravery, a word, a noise, 
A puff of air? Go scowl in fortune's face,
Since being brave is only your good luck. 
You're glad your liver wasn't eaten long
Ago. Go, Hitch and glare the quasar down.
Seeking disputation over truth,
You won your fame, prompting fools 
With passion's full intensity and great 
Conviction to declaim their hate or praise 
Of things opposed, the heroes changing horse
Mid-stream, for Borodino now, and now 
Against. We are so weak, so frail, so slight,
So evanescent, yet we can envisage 
Perfect love and grace. Infinity 
Provides the fertile womb of God. Our need, 
Our boundless need, across the cosmos, would, 
Through endless yearning, yield a Lord of skill.
Brave Damocles, thank your amygdalae. 


Imagination is the key. . .    
Machines will poison everything. . .