August 4, 2024
O mortal greatness, woe to those,
Who pay your bitter, painful price;
All whose hearts against their will,
Are tormented by your echoes!
Who would choose to tread your paths,
If they knew the terrible cost you ask?
And can praise, honor or fame atone,
For the anguish of those who walk alone?
Why do you ensnare those who never strove,
For the rewards you give to your own?
If, in death, glory comes after strife,
With what misery must he pay in life?
Friendship's comfort he will never know,
Or the peace of oneness with humankind,
But alone and unknown, he must stand,
For this is the price that his gift demands.
Though they now rave of the men of old,
And exalt them upon immortal thrones,
Doomed were the poor mortal souls, who
Dwelt in those frames, now renowned.
For no man could desire the curse,
In which the gift of wisdom is immersed;
But has he any choice but to yield,
To a destiny which fate has sealed?
Is there really some good to be done?
A distant victory that needs to be won?
That the world might help and comfort know,
Through a man who, his own, had to forgo…
~✍️ Jerusha
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