It seems that even when I’m in dire need,

Those dear to me whom I might depend upon,

Seek succor from, to whom I might turn for sure support

Are yet even needier, more dire than me.

Oh. And thus the giving goes. 

From less needy to more should the charity flow.

Ah, no one said the life, the life of a warrior

Would ever be easy.

Thus somewhere in the 30^th century they may unlikely utter:

“He died a long, long time ago.  Unaided.   Much as he lived.”