During the act of writing I have told myself something that I didn't know I knew.
What did a few ripples in the flesh matter when, all too soon, now or later, that flesh would be making its return journey to dust?
How easy it was to make people happy, when you didn't want or need anything from them.
Learning when 'enough is enough' is the discipline of a lifetime.
The more you respect and focus on the singular and the strange, the more you become aware of the universal and infinite.
Heroics are not easily had for the young in our times. Perhaps that is why they go to such extremes to create their own dangers.