i'm out of town (again), writing this in a motel room. My eyes are half closed, so this will be short.

Deolexrex sent me this poem, and I think my readers will appreciate it. Here it is:

My Orders

My orders are to fight;
Then if I bleed, or fail,
Or strongly win, what matters it?
God only doth prevail.

The servant craveth naught
Except to serve with might.
I was not told to win or lose,–
My orders are to fight.


~~ Ethelwyn Wetherald

This should strike a chord with those who have been long in the battle. Stay true, guys.