||[Jul. 29th, 2014|08:22 am]
In war you pray for every unkindness that has been done to you.|
Only the nettles and thorns are kind only the pain important.
Except for the one burning light of ones reason to fight.
Ones reason to strive,
Ones reason to fight.
You pray for only pain because you need every drop, every ounce of pain to sustain what you will do next.
The being renewed and washed in blood.
The foul smell everywhere.
In war your life's suffering is your blessing, and the only thing keeping you alive.
Settle yourself to contentment for neither joy nor sorrow will serve you.
Only stoic reserve as the world again washes itself of the chaos, it has pretended to contain since the beginning of civilization