Self-possession, solely, is all that counts
when trouble glares it's ugliest of glowers.
Your repertoire of firm recourse amounts
to zip, if you rely on earthborn powers.
A depth, unknown to most, exists to plumb
within one's heart and soul. This well flows deep
beneath the daily face of things. The slum
of mind, in which most people lurch and sleep,
is where all change begins. Mythologies
arn't real. Each man, beholding mystic things,
will see his own defects, trap him like tar,
which keeps his engines slow and gums his wings.
What is the point of being, if not to soar?
It's never late to face the Demon's roar!