On the Wings of Hope : Prose

No. He perfectly did know that it happened once - was part of his past. Indeed, he remembered it - what for, why couldn’t he just threw away all these fragments of former memory of own tortures, why his devoted memory had no desire to do such a thing? For what unknown purpose did it store these old memories of years long since gone? Who knows for sure …

He tried to drive these events from his thoughts so hardly, so strenuously thirsted to forget them … But - no way, it wasn’t possible until now.

Why even now, when he was given so much by this life at last … his beloved woman, who is so close to his heart and who understands him from a half-word, loving deeply; fine job, allowing him to aid lots of people; glory, riches, recognition, success … why even now these terrible images - monsters of his past - still haunt him, flowing before his eyes time and again, as always? A reminder of what he had to suffer?

A warning?

Enough of running away, he thought suddenly. Enough of fearing. Enough of remembering of this and enough of constant milling it in own memory. The time has come to forgive people at last - to forgive for errors, to forgive and release this pain from oneself.

To forget - and to forgive. To forgive - and to forget.

And then, having faced a window and lifted eyes towards to ascending morning sun, he cried out: - “Father, I do forgive you now for all the pain and sufferings, which you have caused me. I forgive you and let you go in peace. Go now your own path. We will part our ways with no rage and hatred. Let you be forgiven by me!”

He cried all that loudly and joyfully. He cried as though warriors do after a long-desired victory.

-          I forgive you! Let it be so!

-          “Let it be so”, - his voice was carried far away to surroundings …

And just a moment later a wonderful music, a music of joy and triumph filled his ears. It was his own music - that one of his childhood.

A sign of his way.

03.04.2011

You came too late

Yet I don’t want to die, my friend

In clocks of life there is still sand,

There is no way for saturation

For I do thirst for inspiration.

Yes, I know – time cannot be turned back. Yes, I know – mistakes of the past cannot be reversed. Yes, I know – how I was wrong for all my life and became truly right only right now. I love you how I did not love anyone in this world. And I loved much.

People deceived and betrayed me. They destroyed my illusion of own loneliness for short durations, only to let me feel again, how illusionary were my conceptions of it as of illusion. They loved and hated med simultaneously, for their love is so much like hate. And I loved them even for that. When a painful silence falls upon you like a heavy press, you even start to rejoice to a shout from own pain.

I truly loved you, loved you as no other woman in this immensely dim world. I was sort of an entertainment for them – a toy, which they threw away with pleasure the time it bored them, not wishing to understand, that even toy have a living heart. And in this amusing game they, almost like me, tried to escape from comprehension that sometime they too will be left alone with themselves – and along with you. Perhaps, I love you for that too – that you have always been near me imperceptibly, no matter wherever and whoever I was. You, probably, don’t know about it yet, but thereby you also invisibly aided me – helped true me not to lost in this false vanity of life. You have appeared to be the most true and devoted of all the women, known to me. You have become your full antithesis for me, actually.

Sometimes I called for you in a vain hope to be heard. It seemed to me that you have completely forgotten about me and will never shine the temple of my soul with your presence anymore. I have almost started to believe, that even the most devoted ones are capable of betrayal.

Yes … I see, I feel, how passionately do you desire to turn and face all these big and little ones, stepped over the border of their conscience, how deeply you want to shout to them all, that it’s only you, it’s only you, my beloved one, have never betrayed and deceived me, that only you always treated me so gently and carefully, as no other living being is ever capable of. For only you know, what is an inescapable heart pain … and only you have a cure for it.

But even you have come too late.

For I am not the one I used to be already. Something has parted with me – something imperceptibly important and indescribable in words. Belief ? Hope ? Love ? But what can belief do, when the last hope has crashed into ashes, and what to hope for when the heart has become too rigid to love anymore ? In such minutes it’s possible to love only you, both hoping and trusting.

But you have come too late !