Abbatissa Liberatum
By: Arlando
You clung to your touchstones.
Where once you clung to wounded pride, even as it plagued and molested..you...
Cognizant that you may one day die as The Lion...
...you desire to be The Lioness...today.
You've grown...too...delighted... to the sense the disappearance of
The Lion in search of his Ideal.
Your arms, outstretched, and your spirit more open than ever before to
welcome Him when He comes...
You crawl. Extol your virtue, nonetheless, you crawl. Extol your virtue. Crawl...
...until you stare your most tender inspiration into some endless silence...
...and dare them to do as you have dared.
With or without His Son.
Still, you clung to your touchstones...
...and you will see Him come...
...although it may forfeit your life as The Lioness.
Although you will die as The Lion...someday...
Your heart...a cachony of war-drums...pounding away while...
This meeting of Stone and Sound...
...conspires to at long last spirit away The Words of Men.
To somewhere far out west...
To the middle of the sea...
To somewhere where your conscience still thrills you...
To somewhere, anywhere, far from here...
You crawl.
Extoll your virtue, nonetheless you crawl.
Extoll your virtue.
Crawl. Until your endless Ideal stands romanticized in perfect silence...now...
...having walked a thousand miles on only the gaze of His Son...
...and lifts your hand...
...slowly...
...slowly...
...slowly...
...up to his lips.
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