What does it take
to dive, with unheld hand
into the fathomless pool
of each awesome day?

To stand up, square up
to the prospect
of each unlit hour -
no candle of vigil
lit by another?

To stand your ground,
unsheath your sword
and, with sentinel absent,
take on the judgmental,
the searing swathe
of the self-righteous smug?

It takes mettle.
It takes stamina.
It takes spunk.
It takes sheer bloody-mindedness.

And, for this
not insignificant price,
this spicey singular path,
the reward?

Freedom.