I REMAIN A STONE

I’m not filling up a congress hall

and I don’t wear a righteous suit.

I’ve kept my soul pure and small

from every Babylonian hoot.

Without deafening glory at the podium.

Without titles or some great renown.

Without businessmen with their millions,

sitting right there in the front row.

Without a shiny car and security.

Without a fat church fee in hand.

Without worldly honors or invites

to a king's palace on this land.

Without a deal for a new book.

Without signatures or autographs.

Without any tempting chains that hook

in the spirit of the wretched Esau's paths.

Without anything vile that would drown

my spirit in a pit so deep,

and would cause my heart to frown

the Radiance of Christ’s Light to keep.

I remain a stone with rough caresses.

The flesh from it still hurts inside.

And there’s no way to love what suppresses

because an abyss does divide.

For it lives “with,” when my spirit

stands firm in “without” though it’s tough…

And all that is True and Holy

is my steadfast counterbalance, that’s enough. 

Stefan Glavchev

(Fleeting Remains)