The brave and cowards fit in selfsame grave,
But not the songs, for deeds yet shape their fame.
With rasping throat and grating tongue, we rave
Of songs that vary, walking paths not same.

They crooned and groaned their will on world again,
To teach us not to scorn the fear we feel:
That fear is mankind’s eldest friend ere pain,
For pain’s behind the err, before the heal.

So, hold your fear in heart and seek advice,
As brave have countless times before they soar.
But let it rule you not, nor heed this vice,
For fear has stayed the hand of pain before.

The brave do make their fear a fervent shield,
While cowards yield, for death and pain to meld.