Where are those places where men go to be called bold?
Frontiers are the obvious answer, whether into the final one called marriage or away from the slow drag of high-speed fios in the back of a Nissan with William Shatner.
To venture bravely into space is to be as bold as the darkness enveloping the ship on a moonless and cloudy night while it slides along the sea, sending ripples out into the vastness of time, only resonating soundly when they strike a shore. Beaches are like the objects in the night sky, beacons of hope. Final destinations beckoning bottles set adrift, their weight warping space-time into children's coin-funnels.
Boldness won. Change at the bottom of a well, relinquished merrily for a child's smile yet the rapacity of a stranger's outstretched hand prevails.
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Jay M Horne