Arete

A - re - TAY is dead;
An Aristotelian
Sympathetic mind.

For the grace of Zeus
There go I, judging blindly,
Without second thought.

No pity, no thanks.
And no quiet gratitude
For a better fate.

Weight, beauty or smarts,
Missing, destroyed or squelched
Shake my inner mind.

Arete’s distance,
For mere effort, there go I;
Pride, luck, hand in hand.