home…” – is the first thing that so lovingly begins to bother you. All roles change. And you begin to realize that there is no need to rush anywhere, no need to worry about anything. Time flows through your fingers like sand, not slowing down for a second… Only the wind, the desert wind, echoes the fleeting life and the thought that flies away, somewhere in the distance. Taking with it all the power with which you were filled. And the more obscure the power, the more attractive it is… In dreams I still dream of the enticing distance… I close my eyes and think of you, my longing, where childishly grown up reasons, the steppe wind blows not sparing my strength and me… And the thoughts continued to buzz quietly in my head, becoming more and more refined as they arose and flew away, somewhere in the distance… “What will I be like in twenty or thirty years, what awaits me, and will I remember these first attempts of mine not to go crazy…?”
– How beautiful everything is around me!” – I catch myself thinking. And I hear the scent of wormwood and the delicate fragrance of prayer that life whispers to me. And near a flower, now leaning, now straightening in the breeze, its petals rustling faintly…
– I don’t want to go anywhere, I want to stay…” – I close my eyes and drift into oblivion. But how sad to think that it’s all the same to be somewhere, to be sad afterwards, how glorious it was…
…And I already knew, maybe for the last time, so quiet and peaceful at home, listening to every rustle, enjoying every singing flower, rejoicing in this warmth that overflows me, but tears, for some reason treacherous and to this day. Serenity in everything and the joy of being puts its stamp. It remains only to subscribe to the magic of goodness, which has no limit, it is alive with prayer in the soul of each of us. And once again our time, like the sand that flows through our fingers, whirls in the whirlpool of the years. It won’t slow down and it won’t lag behind. Time will run forward, and we will follow, for we remember too often… It is a deliciously charming, beautiful time.
PAGE FROM THE PAST
On the threshold of the forties, one realizes that the past cannot be changed, like in a soap opera where everything is assumed and the end is included. Fate speaks, tries to justify its actions, and is not entirely wise. I think that’s the last thing that needs to be said out loud. It is natural to want to believe in the good things in life. Just as transgressions are also punishable, and not because of made-up rules. Humanity is not hard to lose, but it is hard to regain. It is easier to walk away than to forgive, and the paradox is that all our lives we resent those who have betrayed us and do not consider our own self-interest. It’s easier to make a decision after certain circumstances, justifying a sudden desire to start over in the hope of unlimited happiness. So much for fate, or maybe it’s just a lousy test, a certain stage depending on the characteristics of our selves. How primitive everything is except the soul, which suffers and tortures in earnest. Why? No one will answer. I stared at him as if I was watching what was happening, but I did nothing. My soul was wounded by mistrust, the main thing is to find the strength not to go back. It is hard to look into his eyes, knowing that there will be excuses for his selfishness. Sometimes helplessness in this or that situation gives pleasure to someone, that is human nature. And now, years later, as I found peace within myself, walking the streets of my city, I felt like an alien in a godforsaken place. Everything seemed strange, unfamiliar, some people were scurrying around, wanting something. There is no place for regrets or resentment, only good memories, but not all at once. Time is the best doctor, you say to yourself in the beginning, and at the end of the way you get out of the piggy bank all that has accumulated.
…Freedom to choose, incredibly difficult, but the choice is made and suddenly. I realize now that the sheer darkness and suicide in the face of his already quite satisfied selfishness was not for me. Would he have been so thoughtful and compassionate to me if he had the choice? I think not, and I was not wrong. All our actions, both good and bad, have their resonance in nature. By nature, we mean people close to us as well as the occasional passerby. Time is the best doctor…
SWEET NAIVE CHILD
I did not notice my life through my sweet dreams that covered my heart. The days lay in a legend that I cherished in my heart. I saw no falsehood in my life.
– “Where have you been, naive woman?” – I asked myself. And in my imaginary joy I didn’t notice that I was already living without him… Just today I shouted to myself, “There will be no more bad man in my life!” And my dying heart was covered with a blanket of indifference. Like any other dream, but not mine. How sad and painful to wake up. – “So where were you, wandering woman?” – I asked myself again. – “Ah, I looked at myself in the mirror. And I recognized you, my sweet – naive child,” – I answered myself.
I AM ONE OF MANY WOMEN
– What is the vice? Is it impatience to live to the point of exhaustion, turning into a nervous lump?
– All from the beginning! But is it not nonsense? And who is there to shout?
I am the listener. I turn over my rosary as if to wear myself out. I remember sweet moments just to justify myself or to continue tomorrow. The cup is full, or maybe it is filled to the brim. It does not matter. There’s more good in a fool’s smile than in the one that gnaws at me from the inside and makes me hate you more and more!
– So what is the vice? In not wanting to see? Or perhaps in not wanting to love you?
Ah, forget all those love songs! In them the purity of words and sweet drops. Long ago no longer for us to ring, turning into a distant, kindly chime, without any hint of the poisonousness of your words that cut the ear and the memory. And there’s no more room in it for the feeble attempts of the bruised to self-love, of the offended, weak man. So I ask myself.
– What is the vice? Yes, that I don’t feel myself with you!
That’s the first thing I cried out. Life has flowed like a river, never letting me look back. Sad and a little sorry, but not to go back and start again. Yes, God is with me. I will remember the kind words of my children. In them my fresh water. And days of ringing songs! And all the rest is probably complete nonsense.
– “Yes, just love yourself!” – and that’s the last thing I whisper to myself…
…I love the earth very much! And everything around me. It’s so wonderful. I will always remember my Christmas tree outside my window. And my forest near my house. I’ll remember my steppe from my childhood. And also the chirping of the sparrows now in the morning. And that makes me feel so good.
LOVE PROPERLY
Don’t let them use you. Couldn’t help the one who gave his last shirt. Don’t expect praise from others, don’t be offended or angry. Just share what you’re happy about and help. Go to the root of the problem. Giving money for a bottle of vodka to a poor person means drinking yourself. Think a little. Every person has his own karma and experience. Be his friend only in agreement with him. Don’t be arrogant. Don’t belittle yourself. You are an individual in the great flow of life. The laws of the universe are inviolable for the energies of all streams. Respect and gratitude are always for the gifts. Recognition is not easy when you live in the fog of religions. But to become free is to love rightly. Learn to say the word “no”. I, am love and light, I, am the creator – tell yourself from now on. Just share…
MY FRAGMENTS OF LIFE
A soft breeze touches my lips. And strands of my long hair wind like a train of memories. They waltz in a waltz of emotions, my sweet misery. There you are. As if you were kissing me yesterday and looking at me with kind, caring eyes. As if your hands want to protect me from all the bad things. I believe in the spark of memory more than in a fairy tale of false confessions. There