Absalon or Axel (c. 1128 – 21 March 1201) was a Danish archbishop and statesman, who was the Bishop of Roskilde from 1158 to 1192 and Archbishop of Lund from 1178 until his death. He was the foremost politician and churchfather of Denmark in the second half of the 12th century, and was the closest advisor of King Valdemar I of Denmark. He was a key figure in the Danish policies of territorial expansion in the Baltic Sea, Europeanization in close relationship with the Holy See, and reform in the relation between the Church and the public. He combined the ideals of Gregorian Reform ideals with loyal support of a strong monarchical power.
Absalon was born into the powerful Hvide clan, and owned great land possessions. He endowed several church institutions, most prominently his family's Sorø Abbey. He was granted lands by the crown, and built the first fortification of the city that evolved into modern-day Copenhagen. His titles were passed on to his nephews Anders Sunesen and Peder Sunesen. He died in 1201, and was interred at Sorø Abbey.
Absalon (ca. 1128–1201) was a Danish archbishop and statesman.
Absalon may also refer to:
I feel like this is just a means to an end.
Does it hold any meaning as I reach the end?
Lost to memory, final reality.
When I'm awake or asleep both are all but a dream.
Finality of this life is something certain for me.
Lost to memory, final reality.
Sifting fragments of time, drifting, falling away.
Sense of finality, fate is dawning on me.
What is the purpose of death, live, learn, die then forget?
Feel I'm lying awake, only sleep when I'm dead.
Lost to memory, final reality.
Compressed memories.
I'm temporary, unable to contain.
Like Epsilon, my finality is pointing out the way.
What have I learned?
What will I forget?
Monumental rhythm of life is pounding out the beat of the dead,
but might it all end, without a meaning?
Lost to memory, final reality.
Speed Of Life
Each day grows quicker as I breathe.
Or is it that every year seems to get shorter?
Racing at the speed of life.
So much to do, so little time.
I don't want to win this race.
Heading swiftly to my grave.
Epidermis showing signs of natural decay from living my life.
No way to slow the hands of time.
Of this I am sure you live, then you die.
From infancy to my old age.
Another day of life.
Another turn of the page.
Racing at the speed of life.
So much to do, so little time.
Heading swiftly to my grave.
Is it only me, is it all in my head?
Rather a fight to ascend than an easy descent.
Do you ever get the feeling you're in some sort of race?
Each day has more to offer, there's just no time to play.
One mine I'm a child, the next I am a man.