Makes me think of the Lord’s Prayer. When I was a kid my grandma bought me a necklace that opens up, inside the tiny writing has the entire Lord’s Prayer. I memorized it from that necklace and it made my grandma so proud. Good memory. I still have that necklace.
the forest was so quiet yet so heavy with a million thoughts. she wanted to know what happened here and why the trees seemed so wise. it was like they held the kind of knowledge that could only be attained from witnessing unspeakable things.
And in that moment I felt haloed by the light. It was radiating from everywhere. Those words of belief, of blessing, I’d waited for for so long hovered above me now like a saintly glow . I didn’t want to leave this hallowed place. This place, which had become my place, the first marker in my map, the place that had helped me find ‘my place in the world.’ The trees were a lime-green blur as I walked under them, their branches bowing before me. The sky was a big boundless blue sea. And the horizon, sprawled out before me, beautiful and clear and endless.
John longed to hold on to Sherlock in some way as the two stepped over the threshold, a cold shield of magic washing over them in a protective cleansing as they approached the hallowed sanctuary of the Dali Lama. They’d been on this case for two weeks, and it had been rough on both the Adept and the ex-angel. Sherlock had tried every trick in his books, spent ages in the library, consorted with the black market and his favorite pooka, and had even stooped so low as to resorting to Mycroft’s expertise- which still had turned up nothing, but had provided this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for further research.
Sod it, John thought with a shiver, as he took two larger strides and curled his fingers in at the strap on the back of Sherlock’s coat. John knew Sherlock needed the stability and companionship right now, as he was venturing into new and powerful territory. They were about to consult with the most spiritually-powerful man in the known world, and even Sherlock’s non-Sensitive hairs were beginning to stand on end from the sheer magnitude of power surrounding them.
John kept his gaze on Sherlock’s elbow as they arrived, averting his eyes from the holy avatar. It had been a long time since he’d been worthy of setting his sights on anyone of this caliber, and he wasn’t about to try his luck now.
Her hallowed cheeks terrified Andy. He disliked seeing gaunt, poverty-induced faces that reminded him so much of those days in that dark, musty room. He tried to back away slowly, to no avail.
As i lay on the ground, facing the sun and closing my eyes, I was able to forget for a short moment. There were no people, no hate, no lies. There was the sun and there was I. Anything that stood between us did not matter.
There is little that can truly be called hallow. But inner peace is one of them. It fills you up, but makes room for more at the same time. This satisfying feeling of being complete and open to anything new.
hallowed?? is anything hallowed these days? people don’t give a fuck about the world, they fail to see the mystery, let alone the miracle of it all. they prefer to remain in their furnished houses and drive their polluting cars to their offices each day and spend their money buying food from the grocery stores and buying clothes and the latest technology from shopping malls. once a year they’ll probably go on a family vacation, all set up for them at the travel agency. no adventures, every little thing in their lives planned in advance. no taking chances, just going to bed at night and waking up in the morning as exactly the same person experiencing the exact same life, day after day. ruled by government and media and an illusional clock. perhaps maybe, the family occasionally goes to church on sundays, because their parents indoctrinated them with the bible and they feel it is their obligation to have some honour for the guy who created the world and all, though more out of fear than anything else. yes, i forgot to mention that. people live their lives by the force of fear. a powerful force that is difficult to escape once it grabs hold of you. is there anything sacred in these day to day lives? of course there is. everything is. the trouble is that people get so caught up in their routines that they forget all about it. they forget what’s important. they forget that every day is a miracle in itself.
I felt hallowed out after our fight. Gutted completely. I had never felt such an emptiness, which was saying a lot considering the family I had lost, some even at my own hand.
And as I lay curled in my bed, curled into myself, listening as screams ripped from my throat into my pillow, I only imagine that Nathaniel has been ripped from me, leaving nothing but a hallow space. He used to fill that portion of me, but now he’s gone, and I am left clutching my sides, wondering if I will ever be whole again.
“What? What? Why are you always picking on me? using words I don’t understand? You’re always putting me down. I hate this. I hate coming home to you. I think I hate you. I think I want a divorce. Do I look hallowed now?”
“Harrowed. I said harrowed.”
Kneeling on hallowed ground with his hands clasped near his face. He can still hear Minho’s voice echoing around the base of his skull, angry words, words that made Kibum want to go and pray. He prays selfishly. He just wants Minho to like him again, to be nice and smile again. It’s awful and selfish and Kibum should be praying for peace and good health for everyone, but he just wants Minho to look at him again.
The wind was howling, the night was cold. As tears streamed down the child’s face, he looked around, wondering if the beast was still following him. He was scared, but if he didn’t keep running, he would be dead…
The hallowed night. Darkness. The smell of death. It almost seemed like the bodies were hallowed out themselves. A white light glowing from inside each other them. The night was dotted with these glowing bodies. Who they were was a mystery.
Hallowed be thy name, sins are forgiven by whom to who.
Grow and be grown.
Love by the only one you call after the bitter darkness bites into you.
Grow and be grown.
It is all you can do.
All he can do.
i am hallowed. are you? but filled only by this music, these strings. brought back down by vocals they insist on adding. hallowed like a tree. shelled out. empty. yes, empty, as is my state. yes accurate. how accurate. this word. how strange, because rare. no, not rare, just scary to admit
In the middle of my chest, a bubble has begun to form, expanding larger and larger with each passing memory. The void, it consumes, re-processing thoughts, finally learning to let them go. In the empty space that’s leaving my frame unstable, I’ll plant more daffodils and find more turtles with mustaches. Then perhaps it wont be so empty anymore
There was a hallowed hall. Very spooky indeed, filled with monsters and mayhem. One eery evening the butler walked down the hall unknowingly because everyone feared the hallowed hall. “BOO!”
The hallowed hearts of the feathery and light
nature of a free spirit
drifting effortlessly in the
atmosphere of
sweet
freedom
enabled by this thing called life.
Hallowed? Reminds me of emptiness. That’s a bit how I feel now. Some of my friends have left me empty inside. They get significant others and suddenly the rest of us are suddenly not important. There’s two of them and they put their significant others first and then each other. Its bull. We never did that to them. They notice that they’ve drifted away, but they don’t realize that they’ve changed, and sadly its not for the better.
On these hallowed grounds I wrote her name. Wrote it and ran off, hoping that along with the thousand other etched initials on the bark would she turn into just a series of letters. It’s a hard thing to do when the same name is etched on the tombstone laying underneath it.
You will know when I praise you by the hallowed truth in my words. It will be the rapture of unrehearsed free flowing verse. Poetry will burst forth and the long days unnumbered shall evaporate from our memories like the lifting of a curse.
the hallowed tree resembled the emptiness she felt in her heart after the death of her husband. Their relationship was pure and true. The roots of their love ran deep into the earth like an old tree. She yearns to rebuild and reconnect… filling the emptiness with a renewed spirit.
Hallow: to make holy or sacred. To revere. She has made some things sacred which should not be, and revered one she should not. It was a hollow hope, one full of wasted desires and scattered dreams. To love Him and the power of His resurrection, breathing life to her weary bones. He was the One to be loved.
There is nothing left holy. Rotted earth, crumbling steps, foul breath. The ground belches sulfurous fumes that makes eyes water and poisons the air. Glowing liquid rock sizzles with enthusiasm as it crawls to meet the foundations of the buildings, releasing hissing clouds of steam as its greedy molten fingers reach the river. Boiling mud splatters forth from fissures in the ground, engulfing the headstones in the grave yard and saturating the hallowed dirt. There is an ominous rumble, then the earth heaves, turns upside down, then slowly, achingly rights itself again. Cracks widen at the feet of the statue in the town square, and everything around it drops off into deep darkness.
Olivia almost always got creeped out at the graveyard. To some it might be a holy, hallowed spot, but to her it was dreaded and avoided at all costs. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that her mother had died when she was 5, not to mention her brother when she was 10, and now, at the age of 14, her sister. Her beautiful older sister, who was the only person who understood and the only person who knew Olivia’s secret. Olivia undid the bun on top of her hair, letting it fall in loose red waves around her face. Maybe it was better this way. Her secret had gone to the grave with her sister, even if only for a while. But all the while, Olivia knew she must always live with the guilt, for it was her fault that her sister was dead. A light misty rain began to pour down as Olivia turned and left the graveyard.
The dim moonlight entrances me. It calls me forth, yet I have not the strength to move. In stasis, I rot away and dream. Dream of forgotten years, dream of the touch of another’s hand.
He walk along the hallowed rows of the tombstones, hardly hesitating to take the time and read the names of the dead, only softly brushing his fingertips along each mounted grave. Some were so old that they seemed nothing more than moss covered rocks. Others were still fresh and new; soft marble or hard granite with an expensive lustre.
“I used to think God had a plan for us,” he said, as he crouched down to run his palm over the upturned earth at one of the graves, “I used to think, that we would ‘rise again’, as his son did.” He stood again, and surveyed he ruins, and what was left of the community cemetery.
“I never thought… that this is what He had in mind…” he half sobbed. He hung his head, and I watch him become enveloped in his own defeat.
All the graves were empty. We knew this, and not because we had cleared the graves of the bodies ourselves.
No.
We knew because we watched the skeletal, maggot infested bodies, climb out of the earth themselves.
Witches wedding night or plant you Find on Halloween
Hallowed be thy name by irón maiden.
Makes me think of the Lord’s Prayer. When I was a kid my grandma bought me a necklace that opens up, inside the tiny writing has the entire Lord’s Prayer. I memorized it from that necklace and it made my grandma so proud. Good memory. I still have that necklace.
the forest was so quiet yet so heavy with a million thoughts. she wanted to know what happened here and why the trees seemed so wise. it was like they held the kind of knowledge that could only be attained from witnessing unspeakable things.
And in that moment I felt haloed by the light. It was radiating from everywhere. Those words of belief, of blessing, I’d waited for for so long hovered above me now like a saintly glow . I didn’t want to leave this hallowed place. This place, which had become my place, the first marker in my map, the place that had helped me find ‘my place in the world.’ The trees were a lime-green blur as I walked under them, their branches bowing before me. The sky was a big boundless blue sea. And the horizon, sprawled out before me, beautiful and clear and endless.
i am a soul i live a soul conscious life i am a pure soul
John longed to hold on to Sherlock in some way as the two stepped over the threshold, a cold shield of magic washing over them in a protective cleansing as they approached the hallowed sanctuary of the Dali Lama. They’d been on this case for two weeks, and it had been rough on both the Adept and the ex-angel. Sherlock had tried every trick in his books, spent ages in the library, consorted with the black market and his favorite pooka, and had even stooped so low as to resorting to Mycroft’s expertise- which still had turned up nothing, but had provided this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for further research.
Sod it, John thought with a shiver, as he took two larger strides and curled his fingers in at the strap on the back of Sherlock’s coat. John knew Sherlock needed the stability and companionship right now, as he was venturing into new and powerful territory. They were about to consult with the most spiritually-powerful man in the known world, and even Sherlock’s non-Sensitive hairs were beginning to stand on end from the sheer magnitude of power surrounding them.
John kept his gaze on Sherlock’s elbow as they arrived, averting his eyes from the holy avatar. It had been a long time since he’d been worthy of setting his sights on anyone of this caliber, and he wasn’t about to try his luck now.
Her hallowed cheeks terrified Andy. He disliked seeing gaunt, poverty-induced faces that reminded him so much of those days in that dark, musty room. He tried to back away slowly, to no avail.
The church hung low in the night waiting. I won’t go. I can’t. That land to me left the sacred years ago. When my eyes opened to the harshness of men.
thats alright
As i lay on the ground, facing the sun and closing my eyes, I was able to forget for a short moment. There were no people, no hate, no lies. There was the sun and there was I. Anything that stood between us did not matter.
balls
hi ,I don’t know what means hallowed,so I check on google and i find that is some thing religious
s
There is little that can truly be called hallow. But inner peace is one of them. It fills you up, but makes room for more at the same time. This satisfying feeling of being complete and open to anything new.
hallowed?? is anything hallowed these days? people don’t give a fuck about the world, they fail to see the mystery, let alone the miracle of it all. they prefer to remain in their furnished houses and drive their polluting cars to their offices each day and spend their money buying food from the grocery stores and buying clothes and the latest technology from shopping malls. once a year they’ll probably go on a family vacation, all set up for them at the travel agency. no adventures, every little thing in their lives planned in advance. no taking chances, just going to bed at night and waking up in the morning as exactly the same person experiencing the exact same life, day after day. ruled by government and media and an illusional clock. perhaps maybe, the family occasionally goes to church on sundays, because their parents indoctrinated them with the bible and they feel it is their obligation to have some honour for the guy who created the world and all, though more out of fear than anything else. yes, i forgot to mention that. people live their lives by the force of fear. a powerful force that is difficult to escape once it grabs hold of you. is there anything sacred in these day to day lives? of course there is. everything is. the trouble is that people get so caught up in their routines that they forget all about it. they forget what’s important. they forget that every day is a miracle in itself.
I felt hallowed out after our fight. Gutted completely. I had never felt such an emptiness, which was saying a lot considering the family I had lost, some even at my own hand.
And as I lay curled in my bed, curled into myself, listening as screams ripped from my throat into my pillow, I only imagine that Nathaniel has been ripped from me, leaving nothing but a hallow space. He used to fill that portion of me, but now he’s gone, and I am left clutching my sides, wondering if I will ever be whole again.
He warned me. And I didn’t listen.
“What? What? Why are you always picking on me? using words I don’t understand? You’re always putting me down. I hate this. I hate coming home to you. I think I hate you. I think I want a divorce. Do I look hallowed now?”
“Harrowed. I said harrowed.”
Kneeling on hallowed ground with his hands clasped near his face. He can still hear Minho’s voice echoing around the base of his skull, angry words, words that made Kibum want to go and pray. He prays selfishly. He just wants Minho to like him again, to be nice and smile again. It’s awful and selfish and Kibum should be praying for peace and good health for everyone, but he just wants Minho to look at him again.
A hallowed soul
Beneath a broken body,
Steady treading the corrosion
Of a fragile mind
The wind was howling, the night was cold. As tears streamed down the child’s face, he looked around, wondering if the beast was still following him. He was scared, but if he didn’t keep running, he would be dead…
The hallowed night. Darkness. The smell of death. It almost seemed like the bodies were hallowed out themselves. A white light glowing from inside each other them. The night was dotted with these glowing bodies. Who they were was a mystery.
Hallowed be thy name, sins are forgiven by whom to who.
Grow and be grown.
Love by the only one you call after the bitter darkness bites into you.
Grow and be grown.
It is all you can do.
All he can do.
We ache to go, we ache to escape.
Our father who art in Heaven , Hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come , there will be done on earth as it is in Heaven ….you are a majestic King
i am hallowed. are you? but filled only by this music, these strings. brought back down by vocals they insist on adding. hallowed like a tree. shelled out. empty. yes, empty, as is my state. yes accurate. how accurate. this word. how strange, because rare. no, not rare, just scary to admit
In the middle of my chest, a bubble has begun to form, expanding larger and larger with each passing memory. The void, it consumes, re-processing thoughts, finally learning to let them go. In the empty space that’s leaving my frame unstable, I’ll plant more daffodils and find more turtles with mustaches. Then perhaps it wont be so empty anymore
A sacred place,
a homely place,
my place.
I feel safe here
unlike everywhere else.
hallowed is wonderful word in the world of english and america in these days of degenerating decencies in the
There was a hallowed hall. Very spooky indeed, filled with monsters and mayhem. One eery evening the butler walked down the hall unknowingly because everyone feared the hallowed hall. “BOO!”
The hallowed hearts of the feathery and light
nature of a free spirit
drifting effortlessly in the
atmosphere of
sweet
freedom
enabled by this thing called life.
Hallowed, I think about a pumpkin. Hallow in the middle. Striped away & scraped out. Hallow like a shell. A shell of a person.
Hallowed? Reminds me of emptiness. That’s a bit how I feel now. Some of my friends have left me empty inside. They get significant others and suddenly the rest of us are suddenly not important. There’s two of them and they put their significant others first and then each other. Its bull. We never did that to them. They notice that they’ve drifted away, but they don’t realize that they’ve changed, and sadly its not for the better.
On these hallowed grounds I wrote her name. Wrote it and ran off, hoping that along with the thousand other etched initials on the bark would she turn into just a series of letters. It’s a hard thing to do when the same name is etched on the tombstone laying underneath it.
You will know when I praise you by the hallowed truth in my words. It will be the rapture of unrehearsed free flowing verse. Poetry will burst forth and the long days unnumbered shall evaporate from our memories like the lifting of a curse.
the hallowed tree resembled the emptiness she felt in her heart after the death of her husband. Their relationship was pure and true. The roots of their love ran deep into the earth like an old tree. She yearns to rebuild and reconnect… filling the emptiness with a renewed spirit.
Hallow: to make holy or sacred. To revere. She has made some things sacred which should not be, and revered one she should not. It was a hollow hope, one full of wasted desires and scattered dreams. To love Him and the power of His resurrection, breathing life to her weary bones. He was the One to be loved.
There is nothing left holy. Rotted earth, crumbling steps, foul breath. The ground belches sulfurous fumes that makes eyes water and poisons the air. Glowing liquid rock sizzles with enthusiasm as it crawls to meet the foundations of the buildings, releasing hissing clouds of steam as its greedy molten fingers reach the river. Boiling mud splatters forth from fissures in the ground, engulfing the headstones in the grave yard and saturating the hallowed dirt. There is an ominous rumble, then the earth heaves, turns upside down, then slowly, achingly rights itself again. Cracks widen at the feet of the statue in the town square, and everything around it drops off into deep darkness.
If everything is empty, then how can the world be so full. If the center is vacant, the being in itself is hallow.
is a word that means your crazy!
Olivia almost always got creeped out at the graveyard. To some it might be a holy, hallowed spot, but to her it was dreaded and avoided at all costs. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that her mother had died when she was 5, not to mention her brother when she was 10, and now, at the age of 14, her sister. Her beautiful older sister, who was the only person who understood and the only person who knew Olivia’s secret. Olivia undid the bun on top of her hair, letting it fall in loose red waves around her face. Maybe it was better this way. Her secret had gone to the grave with her sister, even if only for a while. But all the while, Olivia knew she must always live with the guilt, for it was her fault that her sister was dead. A light misty rain began to pour down as Olivia turned and left the graveyard.
Hallowed be thy name.
All hallows eve.
Unhallowed.
The dim moonlight entrances me. It calls me forth, yet I have not the strength to move. In stasis, I rot away and dream. Dream of forgotten years, dream of the touch of another’s hand.
“Unhallowed”
He walk along the hallowed rows of the tombstones, hardly hesitating to take the time and read the names of the dead, only softly brushing his fingertips along each mounted grave. Some were so old that they seemed nothing more than moss covered rocks. Others were still fresh and new; soft marble or hard granite with an expensive lustre.
“I used to think God had a plan for us,” he said, as he crouched down to run his palm over the upturned earth at one of the graves, “I used to think, that we would ‘rise again’, as his son did.” He stood again, and surveyed he ruins, and what was left of the community cemetery.
“I never thought… that this is what He had in mind…” he half sobbed. He hung his head, and I watch him become enveloped in his own defeat.
All the graves were empty. We knew this, and not because we had cleared the graves of the bodies ourselves.
No.
We knew because we watched the skeletal, maggot infested bodies, climb out of the earth themselves.