Fear is a lot like the devil. When we're children we pay the most attention to it but as we age and time passes it becomes a remnant of a bygone era that hangs from your shoulders like a life far gone.
I don't believe in the devil. Nor should anyone. Nothing helps me up when I'm down and it wasn't the fault of any beast that I wound up there in the first place.
In the last two years I've seen us rise and fall, spiral out of control and then right ourselves again. Nothing in this world can hold us back. We've become more adept to doubt and sorrow than any man should and in all that time only one beast lay claim to the chains we drug with us as we sang Marley's woes.
Fear was the stone around our necks. Not fear of moving forward. Fear of falling backward. And here we are again, on the edge of the water with only that dreadful ticking to keep us company and fear did nothing to prepare us for it. Rather, our experience on these shores prior let us know that the ticking wasn't our fear marked by a clock to protect us from surprise. It was the time we had left to rise above it.
A warning against inactivity. There was no monsters. Nor gods, nor devils. Just a clock and an answer:Why didn't I work harder, move faster?
The answer was now clearly: For fear of falling from greater heights.

Yes
No
Do nothing