Broke But Not Famous. Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

They whisper of glory, a name in the air,
If I join their ranks, and do what they swear.
But always I answer, 'No thank you, no thanks, '
For fame isn't my style, nor control in their ranks.

I work best unseen, in the shade I reside,
Like a mosquito, or gnat, where I quietly hide.
I linger a moment, to nudge from their sleep,
The friends who must stand, make the liars to creep.

For freedom and peace, for all we hold dear,
I'll help wake the slumber, and banish the fear.
I've been swayed by them all, in days long since past,
Believing the stories, my good songs would last.

That was when I was young, trying finding my way,
Not old, and now broken, by what they betrayed.