Joe Moore Biography

Many accept the name of soldier,
Yet sit in the office, at the rear.

Whilst the real soldier, the combat soldier,
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We exists in this void,
Between birth and death.
For God we are employed,
From our very first breath.
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He packed his bag, and loaded his gear,
Grabbed his gun, and was soon to depart.
His little girl looked up, with many a tear,
And handed him his helmet, and a piece of art.
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I ask a not so simple question,
About the soldiers mission.

Is their fight worth fighting?
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Look at its brilliance; it’s the unblemished sun,
It rises and sets, provides us with the day.
Look at the beauty, seeds come into flower,
They reach for the sky, growing from the clay.
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