By Yasen Vedrin
(The Copper Bowl)
The poor man is praying to God with all might,
But not for a steak or for goods in the night.
He prays for His Mercy and Grace to be near,
For the winter of humans is freezing and drear.
The hearts turn to ice, made so hardened by Sin,
Believing they’re right in the shadows within.
But he, with a soul that is strong to sustain,
Sighs deeply because their path ends in hell's pain.
With only his grief, what is left him to do?
He cannot defeat this dark, godless crew.
He sniffling bends down, swallows wrongs on the way,
But knows that a payday is coming one day.
For the Judge who is Holy observes what is done.
Rejecting the many, accepting the one.
And it’s worth it to suffer through hardships and ice,
For the payment of Evil demands a huge price.
The poor man is wiping his tears with his sleeve.
Let come what may come, what the Lord will achieve!
For the ruler still robs, yet his heart is so bare,
Accumulating hateful wealth everywhere.
But where will he take it? Where will it be borne?
These bitter, sad questions are completely forlorn.
He lies with a worm, and with worms he awakes,
No use for the earthly positions he takes.
And when the end comes – he will not run away,
An iron-made snare grips his soul in decay.
The dark, heavy pit pulls him down to the dust,
To meet with the beast that he loved with his lust.
The poor man goes sleeping, in comfort embraced.
He mourns not that the world has been fully erased.
The Lord has remained, and his Faith is so bright,
To stay with his God till the end of the night.
For Mercy and Grace are enough for his hand,
When lifted to Heaven across the dark land.
And even rejected, down-trodden, condemned –
The one saved in God will laugh last in the end…
