My story, my world, my confession...
Thick clouds, all shades of gray, weaved the sky into a net, sky that is
so blue, so splendid. Wind isn’t moving the leaves, left on the branches.
Inertness, apathy, vacuum. Time has stopped, all clocks have impeded their
monotonous ticking. Even, no bird is flying nor a child’s voice illuminates
this hopeless and empty horizon. Inside my soul, only, is a gladiatorial arena,
monstrous tsunami, forest fire…
Thousands of voices, deep and shrill, hoarse and melodic, are interwoven
into a choir. Higher, lower. Personalities are fighting to prevail over, masks
are going out on the surface, all types of animals and beasts. And I? I don’t
know whom I should listen to, what. What is the right way, what should I do, I
am helpless? Oh, I am afraid, how afraid I am, afraid of the past, the present
and the future. Is there anything worse than fear? I am afraid I am losing
myself, every moment, every minute I feel the mire swallowing me with its huge
and insatiable mouth. And if I lose myself what comes? Will I be alive though
breathing, what will I possess in this world? Will there be warm sunbeams what
will one blue, gentle, penetrating eyes will mean to me? A dagger is stabbing
slightly but utterly while tearing my cells, tissues and arteries, I am
bleeding to death… A smile was replaced
by a reverie, one dreamy eyes staring at where it all begins and ends at the same
time, where we all come from and go back.
For
the first time I regret, regret the things, I have done or I could have done. I
also regret I haven’t done it so far. I don’t believe in myself, I don’t
believe… longing for the past and I hate it, despise it at the same time. Loving
strongly or hating this way is not only a
commonly used phrase, it’s a schizophrenia, a spiritual condition, a distortion, a contrast. I love and hate the world,
people, myself. I love and hate God I don’t even blame him, it’s like my
internal battle has stopped in accordance with the whole inert atmosphere
outside. I feel myself falling into a sweet dream, my eyes are closing. And
when they open? No idea, no one knows I hope I’ll find out and tell you…
And what if I tell you? No one understands me, no one wants to, no one
can… I hope to find a way, I don’t want the road to end, never. I regret the
most I have never managed to meet her – Love. Pure, unconditional love, love
like is beautiful as a blossoming cherry tree. Is God really Love? If you haven’t
known Love, have you known God? Or God is just a power-loving and frowning old
man or just a grumpy and mischievous kid?
Or just a myth, illusion, black hole?
Don’t
get angry with me, don’t scold me, don’t cross me out, forgive me as I always
do. I poured out my soul before you, took my heart out of my chest, I made my
Confession – pure, innocent and mine. My own…
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