Melchior

Numquam somnia mea deseram. Usque ad finem pugnabo.

[Melchior @Remluss]

@crawlings13 Think it’s been that way since the rise of the medieval papacy. There will always be fanfare, frenzy of the local populace and gossip around his journey. He is the Holy Father after all; whatever virtue can be considered from such affairs should be paramount.

[Melchior @Remluss]

@crawlings13 Could you perhaps elaborate on why this scene would be alarming? I can imagine the reasons but I don’t wish to presume.

[Melchior @Remluss]

@b0rtcask1 Supremacy eh?

[Melchior @Remluss]

@josephinekatlal Of course. I have an idea I’d like to commission soon and it’s related to religion so you seem like a good choice

[𝕵𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖕𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖊 @josephinekatlal]

The child blessed by the Kingdom of Heaven has always been cherished by me as well.…my dear Maiolus… you are the child I cherish most dearly…✟✟✟

[Melchior @Remluss]

@josephinekatlal “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”

Do not forget Christ’s promise. No matter how faithless you think you can become; you will never be alone.

[Melchior @Remluss]

@FreeIrishman7 @theoscholastica

[Melchior @Remluss]

@StMichael71 So would a confessional Catholic state be possible in these doctrines or does it merely relate to the clergy not taking political office?

[Melchior @Remluss]

@aishurel No more than challenger tho if h

[Melchior @Remluss]

@aishurel At least iron

[Melchior @Remluss]

@aishurel @TheCumpound Yes

[Melchior @Remluss]

@jathanasius1 @BeSaintly A good bishop!

[Melchior @Remluss]

@StMichael71 It is true but it seems rather impious not to venerate images or pray for the intercession of saints. I wonder if there is actually any sort of Catholic who does not engage in such practices?

[Melchior @Remluss]

@urpflanze_

[Melchior @Remluss]

@Kevin_P_Eisert @RodRuiz14 …. @_iteadjoseph_

[Melchior @Remluss]

@O_Cartusiensis What is the substance of the revisions?

[Melchior @Remluss]

She came as an artic fox does; with hush of snow; black-haired, clasped in her paws a moonlit rosary. Her sweet melody of Chopin, dark and slow as water gently flowing to fold the restless evening into air.

He, a tabby cat brown as autumn, restless as the rain,
mixed ochre fire and turpentine for blood spirited passion as his canvas demanded; He spoke too soon the word that wrought the pain upon the gentle fox.

A blackness flung upon a rising flood. The Foxes’ piano keys grew still; the half-wet canvas turned its weeping face against the decaying wall; and dear friends, who never knew how warm it burned beneath their bosom, drew back suddenly, as evening shadows fall. To never return nor hold another again; to ‘never see one another smile nor laugh - a faded memory whispers of a warmer time in the rose garden.

The Fox kneels now northwards in the drifting white;
the Cat paints alone where the embers of memory only remain ;
what love misnamed, slow time shall lift to light

Forget or forgive, sweet friends. Sleep gently in the shade of your own making and do not turn back.