It's Lent, again. This time it sneaked up on me.
Trivia question: What are the ashes made from?
They are the burned palms from last years Palm Sunday procession.
Funny how nobody much seemed revved up by Mardi Gras this year.
Below are the opening lines from T.S. Eliot's poem, Ash Wednesday.
Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?