They are made,
By their great deeds,
By the strength of their backs,
Their hearts of gold, or hearts stone cold,
Stories forged make them more,
More than mortal, but less than immortal.
In the end, they become dust,
Like any other mortal,
And their tales, like all tales,
From history becomes legend,
From legend to myth,
Then their tales of greatness are lost.
For this cycle,
This cycle of tales,
But immortalizes few.