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.