The old abbey lies in ruin where once monks,the holy order of St Francis tended their gardens and grape vines.No earthly riches did they possess.The poor brothers gave asylum to all that asked.Each day they rose at dawn,sang their liturgy and prayers.Then going into the small village below,offering food and potions to the needy. Sacrificing their evening meal to feed the poor and sick at heart,laboring till dusk.To the villagers these simple men where saints from God.For surely no mortal man would do so much for another.
When the evensong's bell rang,all of the community gathered in the Church of Our Lady Of The Snow.There they knelt on icy cold stone floors in silent meditation.Heads bowed before a unadorned cross.These simple men prayed for each man,woman and child of the hamlet.A low moan filtered the incense filled air.One of the older brothers suffered in much pain.Still the monks prayed offering up his agony to the Lord.One fall day after the grape harvest,men in black clocks rode into the village.The people knew what they sought.Casting their eyes up towards the stone abbey that shown rose colored in the sun light.The strangers raced up a dirt road of St Francis.Reaffirmation's might had come to brake the Popes hold seeking all who had not taken the Kings oath.Old wooden doors unbarred enclosed the abbey.The monks still at prayer made no move to stop them. Each one stood straight ready for Gods will.Only their lips moved in whispers of forgiveness and mercy for these men. Moments later all were dead or dieing. Pools of blood covering the old church floor.Images of God and his saints abounded.Burn it all someone shouted and the saints of St Francis were no more.
the old abbey scorched
lush grape vines blackened and burned
mans cruelty to man