Go to war for material to sing...

He tried to live a good life and devote it to be as honest as possible. And he was always quite sure the world would never reward him for his efforts. Such a thought would be the ultimate in self-deluding self-aggrandisement, for why would the world care one iota about him? Now, however, he wondered if he had been wrong. Now, he thought that maybe, just maybe, if you lived a good life, the universe - this cold, cold world - might just reward you, but not in ways he imagined or necessarily wanted. Acceptance, and peace above all, were the accolades. The knowledge that he did at least something worthy throughout his journey. The small things. Not statues or songs in his name. But love in the eyes of those he's fighting for.