Sun rises on the backs of labor, feeding stock, were a man can fix, ride, make and grow things. Sun up to sun down is the work day, responsibility and honor aren’t just discussed it is a life style. There is a rhythm, you work with the seasons and the day dictates what’s to be done. There are those counting on you and letting them down is not an option. Whether beast or child, there is duty and you are proud to deliver. A hand shake cant be broken. Callused and weathered they may be, But filled in firmness of commitment. Eyes look into eyes and it is known you will go to battle for one another. Talk is small because actions are the measure. You work to finish, not for pay. You work for honor, not glory. You toil and preserver just because its what’s needed. You are grateful and filled with pride, not arrogance. The work taught humility, a job well done taught pride, suffering taught appreciation. Death is not sad, It is a the way of life. A spirit strong in purpose, a resolve un wavering and character guided when no ones watching. It is simple, it is defined, and there is right and wrong. Ingenuity and awareness are necessities. Survival is for the fittest, but the week are nurtured with compassion. Patience is a mandate, perseverance the only way, service is strength and purpose is given from above.
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