The West Rise Up and fight & The Fall of Western Thrones

by Rósa Björk Kristjánsdóttir

...

The West Rise Up and fight 

The Lord once walked these ancient lands

Where cathedrals rose by faithful hands

From mountain stone to ocean shore

The Word was sown forevermore

But now the West has turned its face

And cast aside redeeming grace

The covenant is mocked, defiled

By kings once just, now lost and wild

The stranger comes, not in God's name

But bearing laws that scorch like flame

No Christ, no cross, no saving plea

Just Sharia's shadow on liberty

The West once fasted, knelt in Lent

But now her soul is cold, unbent

She fears to speak, she dares not warn

While wolves walk in by lies well-worn

Isaiah weeps, and Paul looks down

As saints are scorned in every town

The Word is chained in court and hall

And Babylon rises, tall and tall

Yet God is not asleep nor blind

He tests the hearts of all mankind

A remnant still will bear the flame

And cry aloud His holy Name

So rise, ye faithful few and bold

Take up the Cross as once of old

For even Sodom had its Lot

And judgment comes, though men know not

...

The Fall of Western Thrones

They came with gold and merchant sails

And built up cities, roads, and tales

From Charlemagne to noble Rome

The West carved out the world as home

It bled through war, and fire, and plague

Yet rose again with iron leg

It crowned its kings, it wrote its laws

It feared no foe, it paused no cause

But now the gates are open wide

And history weeps for wounded pride

For what once came with knights and creeds

Now crumbles fast through lawless deeds

The Gauls, the Goths, the Franks of old

Would not have sold their crowns for gold

Yet now the rulers feed the flame

And fear to even speak their name

Not by sword, but by decree

They hand away their sovereignty

And those who shout, “This must not be

Are branded traitors to the free

The banners fall in silent dusk

And marble cracks beneath the musk

But still the echoes stir the ground

Of men who once stood firm and proud

O Europe, bride of kings and clay

Will you awake, or fade away?

For if you rise, then rise in truth

And guard the grave of every Ruth

......

The poem is written by Rósa Björk Kristjánsdóttir 

Iceland