“The Holy Mountain”
A poem.
The gods in council gathered,
Their crowns to him laid down,
Who their own spirits fathered
And founded their renown.
His is that holy footrest
That Cherubim give shade,
And his their wingèd footstep,
Through all that he has made.
The poet now is blinded;
The prophet's face is veiled.
The one of earth reminded;
The other, heaven beheld.
Olympus bows to Sinai;
On Sinai, Zion stands.
The trumpet call is sounded:
The … Son his Bride … demands!
… Bride her Lord …Lines begun on seeing a mountain veiled in cloud. Thursday, Feb. 13, 2026.
Washed, watching, and waiting with you,
— Digory
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