THE SCALES OF THE SPIRIT WILL PREVAIL!

I do not want flashy tinsel

to beguile my eyes,

but may the Lord guide me

with His righteous scales.

May a crushed reed

bestow mercy upon my spirit,

and it will call upon Heaven,

before it is consumed by evil.

I do not want glittering chandeliers

at some festive banquet,

where wine flows

over a Covenant trampled underfoot.

Rather, I would hide a lamp

with a wick, blackened by sorrow,

for it, amidst the blind stillness,

awakens all my pity.

I do not wish to eat and drink to my heart’s content

with wealthy princes,

for in their palaces

there is not even a breath of Eden.

But let my feast be with the hunchbacked and the lame,

for if I forget them - woe is me,

since God remembers them last.

With faith, let me sink

to the most insignificant souls.

And in them let me sow and reap…

And may Love comfort them too…

For that moment is coming when

the scales will tip with the Spirit,

and God will richly reward

each one as much as they deserve…

Stefan Glavchev

(The Copper Bowl)

TO YOUR LORD BE TRUE!

Don’t succumb to sorrow,  

for you’ve lived in grief and pain.  

Life, true to Jesus,  

is black on the outside, white within.  

And there’s no meaning under Heaven  

to switch places in a hurry,  

even if temptation and deceit  

might dress up as something sweet.  

The rich today are wretched,  

even if they're swimming in wealth.  

They appear white, but deep down are dark,  

and fury burns within their hearts.  

It would be easier for a camel  

to pass through the eye of a needle  

than for a soul, begrudgingly bowed,  

to shed its temporary burdens.  

Lurking, the dark prince waits,  

watching from the other side of the door.  

His harvest is plentiful—  

souls tethered by money and power.  

And no cry of "Oh, God!"  

will reach the heights of light...  

It can’t, sinners! It can’t,  

if the spirit has ensnared you in deceit!  

After earthly and lavish glory,  

the bow is paid beyond,  

and no one there forgives  

hearts that are prepared for judgment.  

But you, be true to your Lord,  

strengthen yourself in His Covenant,  

and endure this cunning and bleak world  

clothed in white garments.  

Stefan Glavchev  

(A Copper Bowl)

WHAT IS WORTHWHILE IN THIS WORLD?

What is worthwhile in this world –  

think, ponder, and understand.  

Lies thrive in debauchery,  

fear gnaws at the godless.

Death, with its dark shepherd's crook,  

herds the foolish sheep,  

and each one forges its own coffin  

with its senseless heart.

The earth shakes in upheaval.  

Above, fire scorches it.  

And brothers – guns against guns –  

are dragged towards destruction in hatred.

The corrupt ruler trades  

and weighs souls on a scale…  

What is worthwhile in this world?  

Decide, my friend! Decide!

Don’t let Evil break you!  

Don’t bow your head to sin!  

Christ redeemed you with His Blood  

and freed you from death!

For Him, sorrow is worth it,  

grief with countless sighs.  

For He is the Sun in the rainbow  

and He is the only Meaning.

And even a caged bird in exhaustion  

Will bloom with faith in cream.  

May you too experience  

Such a life devoted to God…

Stefan Glavchev  

(A Copper Bowl)

HIDDEN TRUTH

In this world, I haven’t lived in wealth,  

And I don’t regret it in the least.  

I’m satisfied, Lord, when they remember  

You through the words I’ve released.  

One builds a beautiful house,  

While another’s hoarding their gain.  

What’s born from dust returns to dust,  

Completing its destined chain.  

But I don’t want to leave here empty-handed,  

With a barren womb and no fruit to show,  

I seek a Faith from Heaven to be granted  

To me, a timeless home to sow.  

For what’s earthly remains down below,  

No one will carry it up to the skies.  

Both greed and glory are in vain,  

With neither does the soul arise.  

It’s through righteous deeds that God adorns,  

Bestowing on man spirit and breath.  

And better to love Him in the depths of despair  

Than to amass wealth that leads to death.  

Yet this Truth remains hidden from the world,  

A trap for the faithless souls it ensnares.  

What good is it to feast in this life,  

If it robs me of my God and His cares?  

I need neither silver nor gold,  

For they're covered by the green grass bed.  

In this world, I haven’t lived in wealth,  

And I don’t regret it, nothing to dread.  

Stefan Glavchev  

(A Copper Bowl)

FAITH IN A DIFFERENT TIME

The world is a monstrous yoke.  

It oppresses with cursed spirits.  

And only with Faith in a different time  

do I save my dreams.

To unfold the covenant in an instant  

and return centuries back.  

To come back to my Lord  

as a recognized Jew.

Let the Baptist prophesy  

from the waters of the Jordan.  

Let Bethesda stir  

for some poor soul in anguish.

Let heaven open in a moment  

before faithful Nathaniel.  

Let angels descend from above  

upon Rachel's children.

Let me climb the mountain,  

illuminated by a Heavenly beam,  

and may the garment, infinitely Holy,  

be a Day for my spirit.

To witness the Holy Supper  

with Jacob, Peter, and John.  

And to find myself among them -  

tested, faithful, called.

Zacchaeus, gazing at the mulberry tree,

or the blind man Bartimaeus…

Everywhere, a Morning Star

will crush the dark villain.

With Her I want to live  

and find comfort in the miracle.  

On the paths of Judea  

to walk to Her on foot.

And today my heart prays:  

Bring us back to You, Jesus!  

Let the heavy burdens cease  

of our most trying days.

We live by Your Holy Word.  

Behold our souls! You are there!  

The True Star, which  

is our Call, Love, and Temple!

Stefan Glavchev  

(Copper Bowl)

FROM GOD ASK FOR AN AUTOGRAPH!

From God ask for an autograph.

In your heart let Him sign His name…

Am I wrong in this call? Am I right

for such a miracle to happen from above?

The world rushes for cheap stars,

wanting their signatures, all for glory.

With a pinch of pride to be filled,

amidst the dazzling noise and earthly clamor.

The Savior with His Holy pen

will leave His words from Himself,

when He does faithful Good,

which He can never forget.

“I was hungry! And you gave Me a piece of bread!

I was thirsty! And you offered Me water!

I was sick, and weak from my ailments,

yet you, even in my misery, saw My Name!

I was in darkness, and you visited Me!

I was a stranger, and found warmth in your home!

After so many closed doors,

yours were open for Me!”

So today, Jesus still signs His name,

and honors His Signature with a drop of Blood.

His covenant they claim to know by heart,

yet they trample it with unmasked hate.

He remains unseen by many.

A star, grounded in the mud of His Spirit.

Waiting, gazing, disdained

in barren hands, and in hearts void of Strength.

And today, as everyone gathers their anger,

where coldness has become the norm and a fetish,

from God ask for an autograph…

In your heart let Him sign His name!

Stefan Glavchev

(Copper Bowl)

BE CLOSER TO THE KING!

Drawn by earthly sorrow and grief,  

the King is unseen, bearing the visage of a servant.  

He won't be felt by a satisfied belly,  

or by the tax collector, whose eyes remain dry.  

With His Hand, the King gathers lamentation,  

where the human plight is painfully ugly,  

and Lazarus suffers in silence  

beside stray dogs and filthy refuse.  

The King reads the words within souls,  

and they are deeply fateful and Sacred.  

For Mercy will follow the merciful,  

who remains faithful and alive in Righteousness.  

But Wrath will destroy at the fateful hour  

the scoundrels frozen in worldly frost.  

For there’s no one in the Kingdom, cursed,  

who could turn his heart into a ball of ice.  

Be closer, O brother, to the King,  

where all the terrifying misfortunes gather.  

In bitter fate, in the cold trench,  

bestow destinies with the Flame of Christ…  

Stefan Glavchev  

(Copper Bowl)

THE ONE SAVED IN GOD LAUGHS LAST

The poor man prays fervently to God,  

but not for sausage or steaks, you see.  

He seeks Mercy and Kindness in life to fill,  

for human winters can be frightfully chill.

Hearts turn cold, hardened by Evil’s plight,  

and they always think they’re in the right.  

Yet with his soul, he remains thrice patient,  

sighing, knowing their path leads to damnation.

What else can he do with this burden he bears?  

He can't fight against the cursed ones' snares.  

With head bowed, he stifles his sighs,  

but knows that one day, truth will arise.

For the Holy Judge watches over all deeds.  

Some are cast aside, while others he leads.  

And it’s worth enduring some suffering and pain,  

for the cost of Evil is far too insane.

The poor man wipes his tears with his sleeve.  

Let it be, O Lord, whatever you weave!  

While the powerful plunder and still feel hollow,  

hoarding riches that only breed sorrow.

Where will they go? What will they carry?  

These bitter questions are futile and airy.  

He lies with worms, wakes with decay,  

and needs nothing from this earthly stay.

But when the end comes, he won’t escape,  

for iron bonds tighten ‘round his fate.  

And the dark pit, it pulls him near,  

to meet the beast he holds so dear.

The poor man finds rest wrapped in solace.  

He does not grieve that the world took its toll.  

For he has the Lord and Sacred Faith,  

to guide him until he breathes his last breath. 

For Mercy and Kindness are enough to sustain,  

when he lifts his hands up to Heaven’s domain.  

And even though cast out, lowly, and poor –  

the one saved in God laughs last, that’s for sure…

Stefan Glavchev  

(Copper Bowl)

THE SKY TOUCHES WITH A HAND

Today I will speak profound words

and anyone who reads them – may understand.

The sky touches with a hand,

and again, with that hand, man finds God.

The hand caresses, carries, and creates.

The hand reaches out to the drowning.

The hand will ignite the fiery call

and will not escape from life’s trials.

The hand generously gives and shines

when it shows kindness towards the poor.

The hand will even shelter a nail,

even if blood flows until death.

The hand kneads the fragrant bread

or begs for a humble coin.

It wipes tears when someone is weak

and wants to weep their sorrow away.

The hand is a refuge for gifts.

It reflects every act of sacrifice.

When it curls into a fist, it’s an altar.

When stretched out – it’s complete salvation.

And may it endure like this –

inspired by the Will of the Lord!

The hand… The Gracious hand!

Creating Love,

and born of Love…

Stefan Glavchev

(Copper Bowl)