The moon hangs suspended like a chandelier
from the star-filled ebon ceiling.
A dagger-sharp wind pricks my skin,
and my bones are singing,
singing of cold and fear.

The refrain rises to an ear-piercing height
as ethereal figures rise,
awakened from their somber sleep.
Their mournful, wailing cries
fill the sepulchral night.

I believe there's a hero in all of us that keeps us honest, gives us strength, makes us noble, and finally allows us to die with pride, even though sometimes we have to be steady and give up the thing we want the most. Even our dreams. -- Aunt May, Spider-Man 2