I acknowledge the risk
But I trust empirically
In the ribs that break the eyes that see
I always believed
In the lengthening reach
Beyond our own restricted field of vision
But the terror of days the gnashing hours of teeth
A debt of autonomy
A built up and torn down Corioli
Why I'd push against a Volscan tide
Is only now clear to me
Every road we trod along
And all the kindred spirits and love we lost
Nothing's more clear than the sound of shattered bone
Every dent and bruise is ours and ours alone
"And when Philip wrote thus to the Spartans: If once I enter into your territories, I will destroy ye all, never to rise again; they answered him with the single word, If."¹