I have not triumphed over armies or doubts,
I have not gone into battles with cries and
finished with victory,
I am not a chess master
I am not epic,
I can play no instrument, or have perfect pitch
I have no treasured wisdom at my call,
no deep pool from which to draw,
I am not epic,
I have not ran into chaos or darkness,
not knowing what my chances are,
of being epic,
because, I am not,
my faith is at times like mustard
without the seed,
watered down, not epic,
I do not ride a stallion,
or have tigers as my beasts,
I have a dog, aging as fast as she walks,
we are not epic,
I can not unleash an arrow from any bow,
with accuracy, but I can say, the fights
I have fought, I can count on one hand,
and none were epic, maybe mistakes,
I did not sacrifice my friends lives or mine
to save a princess, the queen or the Land,
I have not fought dragons,
or black forces of night
I am not epic,
I have never received near fatal wounds,
I have not stepped in front of an arrow,
meant for someone else,
that would epic,
and I am not epic...yet.