I do not fear the motion of my feet.
Though every step be toward the final bourn,
I see no path to orderly retreat.
The energy assigned in brief to me
No art preserves, no science can reform.
And so I boldly choose what is to be
The range and purpose of my tiny mete.
I will not, while I can, myself pre-mourn,
But rage, rage against the rising of the heat.
Our entire existence is a temporary rebellion against entropy. In light of that, hubris seems inevitable. I reckon a little bit of it is useful for us
You inspired me