By Yasen Vedrin
(The Copper Bowl)
No matter if starving or sated,
I follow my rainbow of light –
To leave all titles behind me,
With "servant", despised in their sight.
It’s ancient. Deprived of all gleaming.
Like garments of coarse, woollen thread.
With destiny through deserts streaming –
A hermit to all worlds and dead.
It washes the feet with meek grace,
Forgiving the sin in a prayer.
Though dead, it is live in this place.
A crumb for the hungry to share.
This word collects treasures and stores
Not inside the banks and trezors.
Beyond the Golgotha it soars,
Defeating all pain and oppressors.
Prepared it remains to keep whole
Its lot before Pilate’s grim court.
No hatred can darken its soul.
No palace can change its report.
It suffers the scourges and spite,
Even crowns made of thorns and of dread.
It fears no grave in the night,
Nor arrows that strike mortals dead.
This word desires no crown from high.
It dreams of no power or throne.
With just four sharp nails in the sky
They grant its final hour, alone.
And even if I walk alone
In worlds ruled by madness and cries –
The Savior declares from His throne:
"In you I have ruled from the skies!
For servants reflect the Great King,
Who walked in this world filled with sin.
To love, to burn bright, and to bring
His Blood to redeem you within!
No matter if starving or sated,
Come follow my thorny, steep track.
Not titles and glory inflated,
But My Spirit brought your life back..."
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