On a day around the beginning of October 201O I was cheerfully cleaning the
windows of my conservatory when, from nowhere, a word that I am unaware of
ever having heard before filled my brain. The word came so strongly to me that I
had to keep saying it out loud. What the word meant I truly had no idea but I was
determined to find out if such a word existed. Not only could I hear the word but I
was also aware of it’s spelling (in English). I checked in my encyclopaedias and ,
disappointed at finding no results I almost gave up, thinking I must have
subconsciously invented the word , but first, I thought I’d check online.
Wow! I was totally shocked by what I found. The word for which I searched
turned out to be a first century Greek Christian Saint who was persecuted and
tortured by the Romans for spreading Christianity and not worshipping their gods.
I wrote the following poem to the memory of this man – Charalambos.
The light – it shines for truth, it shows
The way to those who see.
The sparkle guides the bearer home,
The trusting and the free.
The shelter hides the deep and dark
Where forty thousand men stood up
And marched along this ground.
They did not shift or shudder, but
There on the dusty road,
They gave themselves and everything
And eased their heavy load.
The Joyful Light will be their guide
And saviour to the few,
But disbelief and jealousy
Is lurking to subdue.
Authorities , uncomfortable ,
Cannot deter the flame .
Despite inhuman sacrilege,
They put themselves to shame.
The torture takes the torturer
Who kneels and pleads remorse.
The light does shine on everyone
And mercy takes its course.
Come, see and feel, enjoy the light,
Join with the happy crowd.
You’re always welcome, day or night,
Feel justified and proud.
Give the giver everything ,
Hold nothing in reserve .
The Joyful Light does make you sing
His praises on this earth.