A sort of backwards proportionality argument

would tend to suggest that with mediocre power

only comes a likewise modest responsibility

to one’s fellow man. And what are we really

calling quote-unquote great power anyway?

Seems subjective. I can dig it. I am unbowed

by the supposed righteousness of the non-lie.

Let the children hear whispers of the ocean

and summer vacation on the languid lips

of the conch shell until they grow into bitter

scientists. It will excite them, increase their

heart rates, bring the tide in louder, louder, until

it riots against the very idea that evil could be so

unsophisticated as to make a fashionably early

appearance, no, not here, not this house, not this

street, not this town, not this world, not today.