Aurora, part three

I wish a better story had the lead.
The tales I know of heroism fly
Too quickly far away, and may belie
The power they suggested, ere the bleed
And draining of my bravery is done.
The inspiration lasts an hour or a day.
Its opposite, alas, will go away
When weeks have added years, with anyone
Who gives me recollection, even brief,
Of any moment when I was afraid.
The human mind is built and fully made
For well-recalling fear.  A pity, this:
Our images may terror reminisce.