Life at a standstill.

At the crossroads of Hercules,

Vice and Virtue battle it out:

At once, Vice tries to entice,

But Virtue knows patience,

So her time she bides. 

 

Arresting presentations ensue,

As each of them previews

A simulacrum of what could be,

Murmurs of a life he might lead. 

 

There's kaleidoscopic excitement

With casual ethics on offer,

Or a monochrome decency

With labour toilsome and proper. 

 

Vice promises easy gusto 

Played allegro, while Virtue suggests

It's in the adagio moments when

Posterity's pantheon is often earned. 

 

So, what will it be,

Son of Alcmene?