On the Wings of Hope: Prose (Recognized)

Maybe, father

Maybe you will be destined to remember of me once. Maybe I will be lucky not to forget you. Maybe you will still manage to change yourself – and, perhaps, it will still not be too late for somebody excepting you.

No matter how much time passes – I won't be able to destroy the memory of the past. No matter how many years are left – you are not in powers to change it now. Mistakes of the past cannot be corrected unless they are realized as errors. It's impossible to pay off from them with gold or to just throw them away from sight. Payment time once comes, but with what the beggar is going to pay?

It's not possible to express in mere words of that I felt during those days and this pain cannot be easily forgotten. The heart is a too sensitive organ, and scars on it can heal for entire life – and your operation on it lasted for many years. You know, you didn't manage to qualify for an excellent doctor – but you would certainly turn out to be a perfect butcher if you could concentrate your efforts a little bit more. Just one more pinch of cruelty, a handful of rage, one more kilogram of complacency and arrogance, a couple of liters of tears of others – I bet you would like it. Yet the time of atonement comes once – and prisons start breaking. When all prisons of human sufferings are destroyed – this world will change itself.

I remember that I didn't want to live in the past – and now I want to live forever. Every day could become a hell in itself previously – and now all my life gradually becomes a paradise. I was forced to afraid myself – and now I can give myself to others. Rage burned my wings in the past – but new ones have almost grown again. A strange whim of fate – you had to be in my life and you shouldn't be inside it at the same time. Your participation in it became both a blessing and a curse, but now I clearly know which one of them is greater – for walls of the former prison are crumbling before my feet and my heart is still beating. It was necessary to pass on foot through the hell to finally feel own wings behind my back.

Justice will once triumph and the circle will be closed – yet not now. By the time it happens, I will already manage to forget of you, for only kind memoirs live in hearts of men, or otherwise they would bleed to death. I will wash my heart in waters of time and purify it from memory of the past – but remember that you should clear your past on your own. Will you have time to purify it in waters of repentance?

A wonderful whim of fate – by changing ourselves we help those we love. But I am uncertain if I still have any love for you – and you should at least stop despising. Time is running out, for this self-made prison is that last thing that still connects us. But now I bear no regrets for the past – if it was different I might not be able to see walls of my own prison, and without breaking that cage there cannot be a speech of flying. I hope I won't regret my future as well.

Time changes people. Time alters worlds. Time transforms universes. The flow of time will gradually clean last remaining wounds and wind of change will dry them up, for when you are given wings – it's a crime not to fly. I am ready to forgive you, but remember that no one ever managed to escape from himself, and there is at least one instant on the edge of this life when a man learns who he is in truth – whether he asked for it or not.

Maybe you will be able to regret your actions before this moment comes. Maybe hope can still be resurrected. Maybe love didn't abandon our hearts forever. Maybe we will still manage to meet with each other one last time.

Maybe, father.

05.02.2009