|
Post by Episcopos Sofiya Maurenos on Jun 26, 2012 22:09:48 GMT -5
Sofiya Maurenos always rose before dawn. The birds were just waking themselves when she stirred, and nowhere was there warmth on her flesh. When the sun rose, there would be warmth.
She rose from her simple pallet.
Each inch, Lord God, you have taught me to see with my ears, to hear with my hands, to feel with my tongue. And to know with my heart.
The day always begins with an offering. Through the door, down the hall, 10 paces, 15 paces, 20 paces, through the door on the right which led to the household chapel. Where the staff waited.
Entering, she could count them by their heartbeats, she knew them by their breaths. Just seven? The altar was straight ahead now, and Sofiya moved to it with the confidence of daily practice.
"Jessex is not with us today."
"No, holy mother." The comforting voice of Chancellor Naeman.
"Josuf, you will assist me then with the offerings."
There were steps on the stone, there was a ruffling of cloth, and then there were breaths on her right. The incense sticks made a small noise as they were placed on the stone of the altar before her. The ceremony began.
|
|