Epistle Xx - Mount Athos

I. We are the thunder’s call swathed under layers of patina plated Thessalonian chainmail II. Our veins are cooling springs that gush with molten zest, blood red Spartan vigor encased in bronzed Mediterranean skin III. We are an uncrowned empire, our kingdom coronated in pastoral rags, IV. We are a nation stripped of martial might, our regal Excalibur is the crucifix we hoist V. We are the monastics of Mount Athos, our heals glide upon communion’s rungs as we waltz nearer to the summit