I choose to walk by faith
and not by fear
though the fear is great
and walks with me at any rate,

and
even though
I may have to walk alone
and hold onto
my own small hand,
myself to steady
and to ready
to traverse the land,

The rewards
of flouting being steered by fear,
I have to feel,
will loom magical,
so grand and clear
that they will prove themselves
so far superior
to any that have yet appeared–
I’m bound to feel great!

So, now’s the hour
for me to still my mouth and pen
to brave gray skies
and windy plains
and then,
to cross them, move my feet,
to muster all their earthly power–

and if I balk
and wish to stay within my gate,
I’ll give myself a sweet reminder
that it not only is
the outing’s hour,
but also its correct and just
miraculous
beginning date.