Can one only be great

only in the company of great things?
When we talk of legends we talk of
cities built and destroyed
swords drawn and discarded
monsters fought and vanquished
graves dug and filled
destruction and decay and memory.
But what if greatness
is in the mundane?
What food did the hero share with their family?
What language did they share with friends?
What kept them warm on cold days?
Where did they shelter in a storm?
What dreams did they have for after,
for a time of rest?
What if being great
lies in being here,
being human,
doing what you can
with the time given
and worrying not about lasting memory
but about present moment?