The Old Lie:dulce Et Decorum Est Pro

All Theological Lore Is Becoming Distasteful To Me.

So Secretly, Like Wrongs Hushed-up, They Went.

I Don't Ask Myself, Is The Life Congenial To Me? But, Am I Fitted For, Am I Called To, The Ministry?

The Universal Pervasion Of Ugliness, Hideous Landscapes, Vile Noises, Foul Language...everything. Unnatural, Broken, Blasted; The Distortion Of The Dead, Whose Unburiable Bodies Sit Outside The Dug Outs All Day, All Night, The Most Execrable Sights On Earth. In Poetry We Call Them The Most Glorious.

If I Have To Be A Soldier I Must Be A Good One, Anything Else Is Unthinkable