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.
Other Readings for the Octave of Corpus Christi
-
The Roman Rite has various ways of arranging the Masses during an octave.
That of Easter, for example, has a completely proper Mass for every day,
that of ...
10 hours ago
0 comments:
Post a Comment