In a soldier's final score, Only the dead know the end of war. Shrouded in the sadness of despair, Life is hobbled by a world so unfair.
We keep on fighting shadows Though each of us is certain and knows The infernal war ended long ago. Or, at least that is, we should know.
They sold us a line about glory, But we all knew this to be a story. You had fought for me, I had fought for you. Truth be told, that's all we'd ever do.
Though the enemy would not yield, I carried you from the battlefield. Uncertain that we could make it, I was determined, at worst, to fake it.
The generals told us what to do. The rest, it seems, was up to me and you. The battle had started at twilight, And wouldn't let up until the morning light.
They sold us a line about glory, But we all knew this to be a story. You had fought for me, I had fought for you. Truth be told, that's all we'd ever do.
Rumors said the woods were full of ghosts. That sometimes scared us the most. To think that we might never leave, It was more than we could bear to believe.
Some generals swore by their priority, As if to hold their place in history. In another life, this might have been a crime. This, however, was not that time.
They sold us a line about glory, But we all knew this to be a story. You had fought for me, I had fought for you. Truth be told, that's all we'd ever do.
The chances that we took kept us alive. Those and God helped us to survive. We trusted in each other's capability, And kept our faith to the best of our ability.
We had promises made that we had to keep. Smile to smile, there were tears left to weep. This gave us the courage to keep alive, And through this, the will to survive.
They sold us a line about glory, But we all knew this to be a story. You had fought for me, I had fought for you. Truth be told, that's all we'd ever do.
(c) January 15, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“(I)t would be peculiarly improper to omit in this first official Act, my fervent supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the Universe, who presides in the Councils of Nations, and whose providential aids can supply every human defect, that his benediction may consecrate to the liberties and happiness of the People of the United States, a Government instituted by themselves for these essential purposes: and may enable every instrument employed in its administration to execute with success, the functions allotted to his charge. In tendering this homage to the Great Author of every public and private good, I assure myself that it expresses your sentiments not less than my own; nor those of my fellow-citizens at large, less than either. No People can be bound to acknowledge and adore the invisible hand, which conducts the Affairs of men more than the People of the United States. Every step, by which they have advanced to the character of an independent nation, seems to have been distinguished by some token of providential agency.” – George Washington, First Inaugural Address (April 30, 1789)
If you understand what it is that I mean, We're watching two shows on the same screen. There are few safe discussions in this nation. We have lost our part in decent conversation.
Stupid is as stupid does, and becoming plain. That our ancestors would think us a bit insane. A conversation requires listening to what's said, Whatever the cause or whoever may be dead.
We prejudge to the point that it isn't allowed to be shown, That there might be a thing or two that remains unknown. I don't know what has happened to weighing evidence, But I, for one, believe this still has the most relevance.
Instead of pointing fingers of twisted plastic blame, It might be better to take a moment to casually reframe. Life isn't supposed to be about blasting the ego. But it is sometimes about thoughtfully letting go.
Things said can be stacked to find their way to the heart If we only look at each other with love from the start. Everyone thinks strength is found in being demanding. I honestly feel it's more about finding understanding.
It's hard to hold a legitimate conversation, always talking. If you feel that you must fight, maybe first try walking. And while you're walking, move past the pain and fear, You might be surprised if you're really willing to hear.
Would it be so funny if we really gave peace a chance? Maybe there's something to this non-circular dance. It's simply done by using two ears in proportion to one mouth. If I'm correct, that halves the odds of things going south.
On the edge of sanity, life isn't about keeping score. It's about increasing our love and life forevermore. The weight of the world is measured by learning to forgive. Less pain, more dancing in the rain, this is how to live.
It isn't in the me and mine that brings us to our. It's in sharing our dreams that we will reach far. The power of deep conversation rests on sympathy, Listening more is the tool that builds our empathy.
I will seek to teach my daughters until my last breath. And I will teach them to die well with my death. There will be a smile on this old man's aged face If I have taught them love and how to live in grace.
(c) January 13, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
“If ever a time should come, when vain and aspiring men shall possess the highest seats in Government, our country will stand in need of its experienced patriots to prevent its ruin.” – Samuel Adams
“Worship is not a repetitious exercise of rituals and formulas. These create a veil that actually prevents us from enjoying the presence of the Lord. Worship is the heart poured out in gratitude and awe, expressing our appreciation of who He is and what He has done for us by His grace through Jesus Christ.” – Dave Hunt
Walking out past our prints in the Indiana snow, My youngest confesses that it's hard to let it go. Greek myths have an existential edge, so inevitable Creative minds find themselves immensely incapable
Of letting go, the stories touch her young soul As they come down to the interplay of control. Her playful glare snipes at me when I say it's mythology. She prefers to see it as a vibrant cosmology.
She finds herself conflicted with riveted attention Struggling with fate and control's twisted tension. As the gods play games with human vulnerability, Her belief in free will clashes with that ability.
Too many frozen words are not a good sign. Her brow wrinkles as I dismiss the divine. I tell her the gods were always up to inequity, The reply is that's how it was in antiquity.
It's fascinating to watch her mind openly engage With thoughts that alternate between feeling rage And the way these ancient tales eloquently unravel Yet, they remain through the centuries - well-traveled.
Self-indulgent caprice makes for such a tangled mess. That's my perception, I tell her as I readily confess. The stories of heroes played for fools in adventure Is as close as my heart and soul could ever indenture
To work passionately on tales that lacked any real truth, I had discovered this early on while a wild-eyed youth. Certain that my will would have pained the gods more, She laughs, and I know that another day we have more to explore.
(c) January 12, 2026 Michael Doyle All Rights Reserved
Heading out of Australia to escape this Aussie winter. First stop Japan, then UK/Ireland and if work doesn't call me back, onto Chicago. I will make it up as I go along
ALOHA PROMISES FOREVER 