On The Wings of Hope : Prose

Someone will probably say, that it’s a miracle and shed a few tears with a joy in own eyes. Somebody will be wrinkled mistrustfully, having muttered that all this “story” of his own life, embodied in a book, have much in common with a ridiculous fairy tale and silly fictions. Some will thank him for an advice. Some will start applying advices in own life. And he himself will name it - a Trial, a life’s test. A test, symbolizing the beginning of new ones ... each and every day.

Is that truly a miracle that after almost five years of wanderings, they at last managed to be arranged in some circus to look after animals, and when some unknown actress left the group, attention of circus managers were suddenly turned to his little sister, to her live and childish spontaneity ... to her unspeakable beauty in that spontaneity?

And then there were years - years of hard work. So very different years.

He’s been made a gymnast - along with his natural dexterity he coped perfectly with that role. His brother has been taught to juggle. Their sister began to conduct shows. This was the beginning of their new life’s journey.

Is that really a miracle that his sister soon became an actress - and her charm and sincere beauty have brought her a world’s fame?

Whether that a miracle that his brother, having saved a small fortune, opened a business, which has grown into the largest transnational company?

Whether that a miracle that, wishing with all his heart to seek answers to life questions, to learn himself and to teach others making right choices, - became a writer ?

He won’t name it a miracle, he’ll call it a Sign - a sign of the way. His and their way - a way which they must - have been obliged to - pass to become the ones they have become.

To cope with challenges. To feel no fear of obstacles. To believe in fine dreams, to implement them in one’s life. To become a Man, a man with a capital letter.

To be him.

15.05.2011

The Dead City

It does exist – and yet it doesn’t.

It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.

It calls for you as something delightful yet forbidden – but few ones have time to feel its true bitterness.

It is so much similar to the constructed Babel tower, yet more and more are willing to climb to its top.

It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, braiding with webs all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.

Its stench seems fragrance from distance, and its fire – lovely illumination.

Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.

So much has been told about it … yet this does not reduce the number of its pilgrims.

It never lived – and that is why it doesn’t know such thing as death.

It has been born along with the human. Will it be extinguished before him ?

Yes, it looks like a massive city. But this is a Dead City.

A city of former love, now long since dead. A cemetery.

Graves, graves, graves …

Each of them is unique - one of a kind. But do corpses really need to be unique ?

Tombstones - and inscriptions, inscriptions, inscriptions...

“Linen washing is so bad … start delight yourself like mad”, - as though the first squeals.

“A goat he was – a goat he is, no more loving, cease, cease, cease. Perhaps I’ll now just kill him, rather, - he’s always mine, never another !”, - threatens with all possible force the second.

“For how much long, for how much long you’ll have me in the bed, my pong ?!” - overstrains in the silent exclamation to the unknown listener the third.

“From own husband I have pain … but is new lover better gain ?” - uncertainly-shy longs the forth.

“Without family we have a lot of joyful, shining staff … who didn’t want us is just shy, so let them rot and let them die !”, - as though gives orders to dead ones the fifth.

“You’re rather damned, never cool – I’ll rather die than marry, fool !”, - dives in hysterics the sixth.

“All women are silly, but I am – the queen ! I can go right and left in sin !”, - categorically assures the seven.

“The less we love the women shit, the more effortless we hit !”, - share his deadly wisdom the eight.

“You had betrayed, I saw token ! Keep silence now, my heart is broken !”, - chatters abstrusely the nine.