A better world shall emerge on account of this. A general is just
an anybody, events, places, things I could tell you about to make
a nerve end squeal.
Age wrinkles the body, withers the tome. I want so much to become
meaningful, meaning to be understood, the events, places, things
which relay force. Always there has been some loss on some shore.
Americans never quit, 24/7 openness, we will be prepared to say
something meaningful, do things. I am an old soldier and so see
war from far away. I mean this literally, as I am on Venus watching
the unusual gas activity. There are interests about.
Build me a son, I say, and I will show you a river. There, in my dreams
I hear footsteps, crying, the green rustle of reeds. In a war there is
no victor if you consider the reeds. The sedges we encountered
there were always on the up and up unless we slept there.
It is fatal to enter the sedges, and it is part of life. Life is a lively
process to fail winningly. I meant victory, you win some and you
wake up with a feeling, as far as anybody is concerned
life is a lively process, as is concern, a general empathy. Syntax
you’ll have to do yourself, like an old soldier marching out orders
or was it barking? Age wrinkles the body . . .
Our government has kept us within our borders, as governments
do by law. Part of the American Dream is in the borders, where they
hover. The best luck of all is to be born into some kind of dream.
The soldier, above all others, is an American who never quits.
The soldier, above all others, waves his bayonet. The world is in a
quandary over unusual gas activity. Interests lie. O build me
a son toward openness. There is no security on earth.
Could I have but one moment to remember, shine and fear,
where were we, what bright shore? It’s duty, honor, country
in that order of concretization, they told us that.
I am concerned for the general well-being as I do not think
this stratagem is well understood. I mean I have just returned
from events that lead me to believe age wrinkles the body.
I suppose in a way I have known war, though that old scoundrel
rarely played by country. The rules being the biblical injunction against
sleeping when on duty. There are bound to be insidious
marches, sedges. My first recollection is that the foot knows more
than it can say, and we should’ve listened to that, the bright morning
fierce in the birds that we thought were the forest.
Never give an order you intend not to keep. Young soldiers always
die and the tragedy is for what order of belief? Duty, honor, country,
region, town, biome. These are areas of concern.
One cannot wage war with old soldiers. Under no circumstances
should their sleeping be disturbed. Our country is now fit
for an ailing king. There is no substitute for the facts
which are they died hard, those savages. Our enemies are about us
as we are about them, in the world, I mean, no escape. Objects relay
force and place. Years wrinkle the skin but our enemies wither in chains.
On an island you are remembered for a duty cleaning cells. March
came and went with nary a breeze. This country I am concerned for,
as is anybody for their town. Sir, what is sweet, there is no substitute
for freedom, I mean the world.