Let me even at the expense of my evolution remain

a sharpened blade tucked inside a dusty sheath. 

Let me never taste the sweet liquors and fruit of fame

For I would rather share a glass of tepid water with

the hands that clean up after the ruthless beasts of war

Gladly I'll put the pen aside and grab a hod and shovel

and never write another word; keep silent forevermore. 

be a stranger to lush dwellings and find my niche in a hovel.

For "Us", People, is all that have, all I believe in; so let me not-

-as I draw breath and tread above the ground, before I perish-rot.