On the Wings of Hope : Prose

Fyodor :- It is, my friend, was sort of joke. My hero once was axe-bearer, but time of change is coming near, so he is now with blade of word …

V.V.P. :- It’s such a wonderful accord!

Fyodor :- In ranks of friends, and in due time, this time I’m battling with a rhyme!

V.V.P. :- The Maker gave this great gift?

Fyodor :- The souls of others it can lift!

V.V.P. :- That honor’s great without doubt …

Fyodor :- And epochs starting their new round …

V.V.P. :- The clouds of darkness are no more … but can you see what lies afore?

Fyodor :- The Russia will awake from sleep, inspired again, no longer sick.

V.V.P. :- The beast is crawling back in hole …

Fyodor :- The spring is coming, spring for all!

V.V.P. :- All cockroaches run from light, for do thrive only in the blight …

Fyodor :- The house Landlord is now here - and kind ones should feel never fear.

V.V.P. :- The light is burning thieves’ backs, their minds do spin with consciousness “crack”s.

Fyodor :- I see the Russia’s hoping all. What’s with Saxons?

V.V.P. :- They paid their toll.

Fyodor :- You mean they cursed their banks?

V.V.P. :- I mean they’ve put on aqualungs!

Fyodor :- For long time they’ve been hating us … is the Atlantis better thus?

V.V.P. :- No longer they have their home. The England, well … it’s sort of … gone.

Fyodor :- Empire fell with awful smell?

V.V.P. :- And shouldn’t it? The water, well …

Fyodor :- Oh my, you mean they had to dive and swim away to save their life?

V.V.P. :- The nature gave reply to crimes, from the “third world” they are sucking “fines” …

Fyodor :- What is that light in such dense fog?

V.V.P. :- It’s Scotland’s fire! These guys rock!

Fyodor :- They truly are the mountains sons!

V.V.P. :- The world is changing with no guns…

Fyodor :- All fools believed that life is still.

V.V.P. :- The speed of change they will soon feel!

Fyodor :- The inner wisdom never sleeps … I would prefer to watch your tips.

Kremlin Square starts quickly disappearing from sight, getting smaller and smaller, leaving one with a pride in a soul for the Russian people, camera starts winding of streets and suddenly stops before some large capital library, before gates of which a true and real fire is burning! Its borders and limits are, however, being successfully controller by passing here and there processions with torches, who help to burn the pilled-up paper waste and supervise that ashes of her shabby knowledge weren’t carried by a blowing wind too far on the world. On faces of participants of procession it’s possible to notice a surprising mix of grief and inner joy at the same time. Periodically here and there war-calls in the spirit of “Burn right and bright, let’s end the blight!” can be overheard. Action intrigues, shocks and bewitches strenuously and practically unstoppably.

Fyodor :- What sort of field there burns?

V.V.P. :- They are throwing textbooks in the urns!

Fyodor :- To hear inner wisdom’s voice they had to make such funny choice?

V.V.P. :- All rubbish knowledge is like ash, so lots of theories have crashed.

Fyodor :- The joy of life the Maker gives … yet not to traitors, not to thieves.

V.V.P. :- The time has come for us to fly. Still move in cars … don’t we feel shy?

Fyodor :- The cars can still have reason, yes, but shall be changed by progress.

V.V.P. :- Another type of fuel here, no more oil, wars and fear.

Fyodor :- Let Earth take finally some rest. Those new inventions are the best.

V.V.P. :- No scientific idle wander, spiritual science is like thunder.

Fyodor :- For if there is just mind plus greed, for bombs then we are planting seed.

V.V.P. :- No longer mankind making bombs, no more digging catacombs.

Fyodor :- And what with these that have been made?

V.V.P. :- Theirs only fate is to degrade.

Fyodor :- What do you mean? Again in fight?!

V.V.P. :- No way! One sees his soul’s might!

Fyodor :- I have been almost terrified. Deserve they honor by the right!