Sub Rosa
Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 7:47 pm
Outside, heavy snow falls on the court yard. The sun has been hiding behind the clouds all day.
It´s with a heart full of sorrow and shame I write those lines. Many years I have watched bad deeds disrupting the Lord´s name, without speaking up. I have seen tears shed by unfortunate souls. Poor souls that have suffered the brutal force of their oppressors. Nevertheless, I walked away.
No one was there to comfort them in their despair.
When I think back on those times, I realize that what I´ve done, far surpasses them, in evil.
I praise those not longer living. They, the luckily perished before those who yet live.
I am happy for the ones not yet born who will not have to face what is coming.
For many years, I have been a messenger and servant of the Lord. For decades, I have preached the holy word. A thirst for more knowledge has guided me to higher office. In hindsight, those months and years, spent behind stacks of dusty books in the flickering flame, feel more like hours and days.
A rope hangs from a tarred beam under the ceiling. A farewell letter is dispatched by my dear brother. But before I send my soul to the Second ring of the Seventh circle, I want you to know why I do it.
…
It´s with a heart full of sorrow and shame I write those lines. Many years I have watched bad deeds disrupting the Lord´s name, without speaking up. I have seen tears shed by unfortunate souls. Poor souls that have suffered the brutal force of their oppressors. Nevertheless, I walked away.
No one was there to comfort them in their despair.
When I think back on those times, I realize that what I´ve done, far surpasses them, in evil.
I praise those not longer living. They, the luckily perished before those who yet live.
I am happy for the ones not yet born who will not have to face what is coming.
For many years, I have been a messenger and servant of the Lord. For decades, I have preached the holy word. A thirst for more knowledge has guided me to higher office. In hindsight, those months and years, spent behind stacks of dusty books in the flickering flame, feel more like hours and days.
A rope hangs from a tarred beam under the ceiling. A farewell letter is dispatched by my dear brother. But before I send my soul to the Second ring of the Seventh circle, I want you to know why I do it.
…
