Sermons of Fire and Light: Seven Ballads from the Eternal Word
Ballad I: Loveless Orthodoxy
The keeper stood high on the wall with his lamp burning cold in the dark.
His eyes were like flint in the wind, and his stare was unyielding and stark.
He watched through the long-blooded dusk for the wolves that would creep through the gate,
but none passed unnoticed, unchallenged, unseen – whether early or late.
The scrolls in his chambers were sacred and sealed by the fire of the law.
He spoke with the voice of the mountain and bore both its wisdom and scars.
Yet under the shell of his armour, an ember began to decline…
the love he once had was conflicting, discordant, and slipping in rhyme.
He knew every word of the creed as he sang it out loud in the storms,
but one thing that proved and that showed that his faith was still living and warm…
the love that had leapt in his breast like a stag on the hills of the earth…
now sputtered like coals in the sleet and the hail and no longer had worth.
“You’ve stood and you’ve fought, but forgotten the love that first taught you to sing.
Return to the time when your heart was still humble and kindness ran wild,
remember the wounds that once healed you, return dearest wandering child.”
“Or else,” said the voice, “I shall come, and the stand that has carried my flame…
the lamp that you hold with such honour shall vanish along with your name…
for what is your wall without mercy and what is your gate without grace?
The truth must be wed to the Lover whose blood brought his light to your place.”
© Johannes W H van der Bijl 2025
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