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When Holy Things Were Profaned

We raised our banners on broken stone, Called it peace when the smoke had flown, Gold from the altar in royal hands, Trophies of God in a foreign land. We sang of strength in a stolen tongue, Drank to the gods we had carved from dust, Never saw heaven still counting us. Walls were high and the wine ran free, Crowns leaned heavy with victory, Holy cups at a pagan feast, Light of Zion in shadows released. Laughter echoed through cedar halls, While unseen footsteps crossed the walls, History paused, and heaven stood. We mistook delay for peace, And silence for defeat, But the breath in our lungs Belonged to Someone we would not meet. We drank from captured glory, We mocked the unseen throne, We crowned ourselves eternal On borrowed bones and stone. The feast was loud with triumph, But the night was writing names, A kingdom weighed in secret, A torch about to flame. The lamp still burned against the wall, While pride rehearsed its final call, Gold reflected our own disguise, God’s own vessels in enemy wine. We praised the gods of iron and wood, Never asked if the scales still stood, Never thought the Judge was near. Not every victory is victory, Not every throne is strong, The cup you lift in arrogance May carry judgment long. There is a hand beyond the dark, That numbers every reign, And writes the end of arrogance In fire upon the plain. We drank from captured glory, We laughed at heaven’s name, We danced beside the threshold Of an unannounced flame. The feast was full of shouting, But the air began to bend, When the God of stolen vessels Declared the night would end. So remember, when cities sing, And empires raise their cups, That holiness outlives the crown, And judgment fills the чаш. The silence before the lightning speaks, The pause before the fall— The cups still shine in enemy hands, But God still owns them all.