WHEN WE NO LONGER EXIST…

(Consolation for the Faithful in Christ)

When we are no longer here,  

embraced by God in heaven’s light,  

the relentless force will descend upon the earth,  

the eerie one with long, flowing hair.

She will chase the wicked in terror,  

bending them toward her dark master’s throne.  

All thrones and crowns will crumble,  

scattered like dust before her altar.

Powerless, conscience will be shattered,  

under the weight of a cruel mark.  

Worshippers, turned to carrion,  

will exalt the most accursed horns.

Choked by her venomous slander,  

a volcano from hell will roar with rage,  

while bats and vile tarantulas  

announce the coming of Satan’s son.

And a black plague, more horrifying than decay,  

will envelop a sinful lineage in tar,  

for they had stood against the Almighty,  

the most despicable enemy of Eternal Life.

Piercing hands of grace were crucified,  

crowned with thorns, Christ endured the pain.  

Until these days – of irreversible horror,  

when they blaspheme God with wicked tongues.

There will be death, invincible flesh,  

in demons clothed in human guise,  

for Evil reaps its harvest  

under God’s eternal skies.

(The Rise of the Fall)  

Stefan Glavchev

THE SIREN OF THE GUARD

With threats comes anxiety.  

Even nightmares take their shape.  

Somewhere, a terrifying fire ignites,  

and a public building goes up in flames.  

Or with some raging storm,  

the waters rise high.  

And then the sirens wail,  

when vigilance has been kept.  

I watched too with Celestial guardians,  

for dangers are countless in the dark,  

as the enemy with fierce rage descends  

and unleashes a dreadful flood upon our hearts.  

And then a sinister deception occurred.  

The Sacred Covenant was trampled upon.  

A wicked criminal traded in the Temple,  

yet no one seemed shocked or withdrawn.  

Wolves occupied the pulpit -  

not a single lamb bleated in alarm.  

And after Judas' yearning for Mammon,  

the warmth gave way to chilling calm.  

For long, I was a siren for souls,  

never ceasing my anxious call.  

Every word I shared, given,  

in light of the Sacred Example of Christ.  

But my hair turned gray with sorrow,  

and sadness settled deep within me,  

when they saw a threat in the guard,  

and in the siren - dark arrows.  

How can I write in these uncertain times?  

How can I be crucified for them?  

If they see black in the white,  

and in the Sacrifice - mortal sin?  

With threats comes anxiety.  

And today, anxiety is seen as heresy…  

And when they replace their God -  

prepare to be deemed unfortunate.  

For in a field overrun with weeds,  

a wicked disruptor is the grain.  

And the siren watches in vain,  

to startle them with the Divine Voice…  

Stefan Glavchev  

(The Rise of the Fall)

WHY IS IT HOT IN HELL?

(In response to the grim statistics

from the two terrible wars in this world)

Warlike cries are unleashed

amid destruction, grief, and despair.

What warmth awaits them on the other side,

once their earthly time is done?

Human blood is spilling.

The weight of guilt grows overwhelming.

With wild fury, the killers

accumulate their own wickedness.

They are filled with blind hatred,

and their fingers hover over the trigger.

The icy world watches them,

coldly counting the dead.

When a victim dies, forgiveness

can no longer be granted from beyond.

And with this fact, so doomed,

the souls are snatched by hell.

For once blood is stained,

it won’t ever wash away,

and it’s only the devil with his horns

that the sinful eyes will see.

With a knife drawn, a brutal attacker,

not just one, meets his end,

and only in the fire does he understand

that he is a descendant of Cain.

For from the earth, the blood shed

screams against him,

while he is caught in the soul

by the jaws of a dark lion.

And down below there’s only an echo

of screams in the gloomy rocks.

No peace, no mercy, no solace

for the souls, once beasts…

Why is it hot in hell, I wonder,  

and why are there no tears for killers?  

You can’t take away something  

that you’ve never given in the first place…

Stefan Glavchev

(The Rise of the Fall)

BALTHAZAR

Balthazar feasts with the nobles,  

raising a toast with a cup in his hand.  

The die, rolled by deceit,  

has placed a crown upon his head.

In his kingdom, first and irreplaceable,  

proud of his heavy fame,  

but in God’s nostrils, there’s smoke,  

as a mighty wind scatters it.

The king is feasting. The wine flows.  

His eyes are heavy with drink.  

A ray shines on the palace walls  

and fingers appear, vaguely.

They inscribe words on the stone wall  

and make Balthazar soberer.  

"What is this frightful writing?  

Where is the interpreter? Where is he?"

Soon the man of God arrives  

to interpret the wisdom penned.  

"Weighed on the scales, you are light,  

and your glory is worth a handful of dust!

Your kingdom is divided today  

and your days are already numbered,  

for with God's gold you feast,  

fooling yourself and your hyenas.

Your power is finished. It ends here.  

Persians and Medes will plunder it.  

And you, humble yourself, for when the Heavenly hammer  

punishes you with prophetic words…"

In the dark night, Balthazar breathes his last,  

pierced by a spear from ambush.  

The die, rolled by deceit,  

snatches his soul away to hell in an instant.

So in the future, on this earth,  

may all remember what earthly glory is…  

The crown is worn, but at a cost,  

etched deep in the black darkness.

Stefan Glavchev  

(The Rise of the Fall)

A TRENCH IN THE DECEIVED FLESH

Do not seek human glory.  

For greatness it squanders in vain.  

Great is He who commands,  

whether in life or after death.

The ascent of the earth is futile,  

even if sprinkled with power or wealth.  

For a fleeting moment, it becomes a target for hearts;  

yet the godless will ultimately burn.

In an uneven duel with the mortal shell,  

it will furrow the brow, cheeks, and hands.  

And pride, like a fizzy drink,  

will leave a bitter taste in the heart.

In time, the river will drag him  

toward the ever-final door,  

where brilliance means nothing  

after the years have flown away.

The spirit departs from the fleshly shell,  

and who knows where it will soar…  

After glory, only a void remains,  

and in it, no one will forgive.

There, the name ceases to be golden,  

and no creature will value it anymore.  

Greatness will never return  

from the past days.

And then, the Truly Great One  

will write his final word from beyond…  

Do not seek human glory,  

for it is a trench in the deceived flesh.

Stefan Glavchev  

(The Rise of the Fall)

THE DIAGNOSIS OF NERO

When a nuclear threat looms  

And the frightened world starts to shake,  

Nero’s name stands as a diagnosis  

Of the most dangerous psychopath.  

Determined to crush and reshape,  

Even erasing a nation…  

What kind of demon hides away  

In his bloodshot eyes?  

What kind of pride consumes him?  

What kind of greed torments him?  

A person is born into this world  

to create what it means to be human…

Murder is the call of the beast.  

Destruction comes from dark madness.  

And when the world ignites in fire –  

Life remains to him for just an hour.  

In ancient and troubled times,  

A vile creature set Rome ablaze,  

Hoping to take away the faith  

In the Savior, beloved by souls.  

Nero was his tainted name –  

A reptile upon an imperial throne.  

And today the world is once again in smoke…  

Once more, Nero is the spark…  

His heart is never satisfied.  

His hands claw for oil.  

Even at the cost of ash and ruin  

And the most brutal tyranny.  

And there's no madness that  

could tame a wolf like that,  

ready to trample everything sacred  

and itself to frighten and oppress…

O, come, Just God!  

The smoke rises up to You!  

The unharvested fields are burning,  

And there’s no one to extinguish them… 

Countless human destinies are ablaze!  

Justice and Law are burning, too!  

Times grow heavy with the weight  

Of Nero’s diagnosis…  

From it, the powerful go mad,  

Delivered unto wicked depravity.  

May Your Sword cast them down  

Deep into the fiery abyss…  

Stefan Glavchev

(The Rise of the Fall)

QUESTIONS ABOUT CONSCIENCE

Why is conscience desperately deaf  

When the world lies in total ruin?  

It hears no sorrowful words of woe  

And finds no villains guilty before it...  

Why is conscience blind to suffering,  

When the coffin is lowered into the grave?  

It does not see a mother shedding tears  

Because a tormentor has killed her son...  

Why is conscience silent on Justice,  

Not raising its voice against sin and deceit?  

An unseen razor has cut its tongue,  

And it will not utter a sound or a cry...  

Why is conscience burnt out by spirit  

And hides the stains on its white garment?  

Does it not understand that this is doom  

Before the One who chose to disregard?  

Why is conscience a sentence that reminds  

Everyone of the Sacred Times,  

When they will see the deeds laid bare,  

The ones they committed without Judgment on this earth?  

Why, you ask? Because it makes peace with evil,  

And it lulls it to sleep, gnawing away at it!  

In this terrible time, for a harsh fate,  

It has already paid the devil's price...  

Stefan Glavchev

(The Rise of the Fall)

THE VERDICT ON JUDAS

The world is consumed by greed.  

By taxes, debts, and rising prices.  

The banker doesn’t reclaim his conscience,  

But blames himself instead...  

He has a pact with Mammon,  

Fit for a genuine god.  

The banknote - just like an icon  

With the signature of a bloodsucker.  

And in the vault - an iron altar -  

The stacks pile up endlessly,  

While he sticks out his tongue,  

Seeing profits slick as honey.  

To ruthlessly squeeze the poor  

With usury, without a hint of shame,  

And then happiest to savor  

The spoils of his vile game.  

The world is consumed by greed.  

Mad. Revolting as a stench.  

But everything eventually returns,  

When there’s no turning back.  

Mammon doesn’t help from afar.  

He holds power here and now.  

The gallows tighten around the rich,  

In Dante’s foreboding woods.  

There, fiery brimstone engulfs him,  

And a dreadful thirst torments.  

Yet eternity, wildly heartless,  

Can’t be bought with mere cents.  

For he lived in a fatal delusion,  

Driven by dark greed,  

And with the verdict on Judas,  

Accepts his eternal decree…  

Stefan Glavchev

(The Rise of the Fall)

A DAVID IS NEEDED!

The shepherds are deceitful, who

bring a ravenous wolf into the fold.

They hand him sheep – treacherously, hidden,

forgetting their sacred duty.

And the flock, alas, with a short memory,

does not recall the evils in their dire state,

that not one but many a predator has torn them apart

and crushed them with suffering and grief.

In such a ruined sheepfold,

life darkens and turns bitter.

And the conquering faith fades away

of the lamb in cowardly eyes.

A David is needed – to lead him

and guard him from the cruel beasts.

And the flock, through all adversities,

to free itself from evil with a fiery spirit.

To share his life with the sheep,

and chase the predator far away.

Ready to be the sharp sword

by his warm woolen bedding.

Where, today, is such a Holy Love

of a Shepherd, inspired from Heaven?

Is there one on earth already

in this time of the red sunset?

Have the wolves in sheep’s clothing not started

to deceive the gullible flocks?

And who then, with sincerity, will be able

to call their fear freedom?

You, O Lord, with most sacred Zeal,

pasture the sheep Yourself in Your Spirit,

and punish with fiery Gehenna

the hired hand who corrupts the Word!

For if the sheepfold has no fence

and no man of God to watch over the flock,

the wolf, with insatiable rage, will attack

and leave bloody trails...

Stefan Glavchev

(The Rise of the Fall)

COME, LOVE FROM ABOVE!

In a tragic whirlwind,  

the world spins madly around.  

Human nature refuses  

to soar towards the Sacred ground.  

Shells, bombs, and rockets  

scrawl a dark obituary.  

And beneath those cursed caps,  

the devil resembles a deity.  

Fueled with rage, brother kills brother,  

malice shatters destinies apart.  

And gas is flowing into the sea  

from pipes that have already blown.

A wild she-wolf howls -  

the one who nursed Romulus and Remus.  

And from apathy, silent and low,  

Justice is dying, utterly defused.  

Plundered by wicked tyrants,  

the earth smolders in nighttime's haze,  

with heavy wounds she bears,  

hovering on the brink of her last days.  

And somehow, God, she yearns  

for You to crush Evil, dreadful and stark,  

for only with You can life  

be forever blessed, bright as a spark.  

Come, Love from above!  

Illuminate the sky's expanse,  

so that the evil brood of Satan  

can burn from Your Sword's fierce lance.  

Stefan Glavchev

(The Rise of the Fall)

PROPHET IN THE DESERT

To this day, an ancient scroll reminds us  

of events from times long past,  

when the Lord was angered  

with the people of Nineveh.

There, the king, awakened by a prophet,  

proclaimed throughout the land  

to cease their wicked and sinful lives,  

bringing forth sin and heavy burdens.

With prayer, fasting, and overflowing sorrow,  

they begged God for His forgiveness,  

so that the Spirit from Holy realms  

would shine in their hearts once more.

For three days they fasted and wept,  

clothed in sackcloth, filled with grief.  

"Oh, God! We call on You!  

Do not turn Your back on us!"

God heard them. His fierce anger  

softened in His eyes.  

And soon over the frightened city,  

salvation's rays began to shine…

Does the world today desire  

to read from this ancient scroll?  

For a multitude of vaccines it pushes,  

but sorrow for the Lord won’t unfold…

And there is no king - neither holy nor sinful,  

a follower of the prophet Jonah,  

to lift a hopeless gaze  

to the Lord of Zion.

To seek holy forgiveness.  

To call the people to fast.  

That Christ might deliver us  

from all our sufferings and trials!

Alas, when Justice is in the mire,  

and a nation sinks in sin,  

it is in vain for even a prophet  

to call out in the wilderness… 

Stefan Glavchev  

(The Rise of the Fall)