Your blood has finally dried upon your tired and mangled body. There is nothing left for you to give, you have been poured out to the point of death. It is finished.
La Pietà by Michelangelo, c. 1498
The beauty of your eyes has faded. The gentleness of your hands has been forgotten. The serenity of your smile has been extinguished. Could you still be our God?
Who could have ever predicted it would end like this? Your passion has stolen all of our words. In you was all our joy, all our hope for life, and the answer to the question of our life. What you have revealed no man could ever fathom, you the eternal paradise, the place of infinite rapture. Now we wait like madmen, not knowing who we are, not knowing what will happen to us. Each second is an agonizing mystery, and we die a thousand deaths reliving yesterday’s nightmare. My God awake, come back and save us! Do not leave us in this wretched state of despair.