The Torch Is Passed, Now, What Shall YOU Do?

Every once in a while you come across something! Something you may have seen 10 dozen times over a lifetime. Something that you have seen, or read, or observed, or even merely glanced at and passed on. But then, someone, somewhere will point out something special in that oft observed bit of info or thing, or poem, something very special and it grabs you and won't let go. It holds you by the strings of your life. Seizes the moment and makes you glad to see it in a fresh new light.

Such was the event today as I skimmed my emails and came across one from some folk in Houston with a link to Freedom Force and there, I came across this poem, that indeed grabbed me by the throat. To all of our fallen, especially those who have fallen in the war on terrorists, this is dedicated:

In Flanders Fields the Poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky,
The larks still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved
and now we lie in Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw The Torch;
be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
in Flanders fields.

Are you listening Harry Reid and all you other Dhimmicrats?