I stood proudly once,
twenty odd feet towering above
where the wind pushed me higher.
Towers of steel forged by experience
could withstand the idle assaults
that came.
Nearby glances were thought
empowering, nay
sweetly on my heart.
And the fall came.
All at once.
Those memories seem vain nowadays;
twisting the ego tightly round a
hellish nail.
Chill'd nights,
sleepless nights,
cast the daze upon my face.
Nothing escapes.
Nothing holds.
And my cries go unheard.
The Ascension of the Bleeding Christ in Medieval Popular Piety
-
The Christian liturgical tradition envisions the Ascension of Our Lord as a
climactic event in which the risen Christ, magnificent with His glorified
Body,...
8 hours ago
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