We never know how high we are , Till we are asked to rise , And then if we are true to plan , Our statures touch the skies— The Heroism we recite , Would be a normal thing , Did not ourselves the Cubits warp , For fear to be a King—
If there is a wound, we must try to heal it. If there is someone whose pain we can cure, we must search till we find them. If the gods have chosen that we should survive, it will be for a reason.