On the Wings of Hope: Prose (Recognized)

Dead city

It does exist – and yet it doesn't.

It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.

It calls for you as something delightful yet forbidden – but few ones have time to feel its true bitterness.

It is so much similar to the constructed Babel tower, yet more and more are willing to climb to its top.

It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, braiding with webs all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.

Its stench seems fragrance from distance, and its fire – lovely illumination.

Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.

So much has been told about it, yet this does not reduce the number of its pilgrims.

It never lived – and that is why it doesn't know such thing as death.

It has been born along with the human. Will it be extinguished before him?

Yes, it looks like a massive city. But this is a Dead City.

A city of former love, now long since dead. A cemetery.

Graves, graves, graves...

Each of them is unique – one of a kind. But do corpses really need to be unique?

Tombstones – and inscriptions, inscriptions, inscriptions...

"Linen washing is so bad... start delight yourself like mad," as though the first squeals.

"A goat he was – a goat he is, no more loving, cease, cease, cease. Perhaps I'll now just kill him, rather, – he's always mine, never another!" threatens with all possible force the second.

"Just for how long, just for how long you'll have me in the bed, my pong?!" overstrains in the silent exclamation to the unknown listener the third.

"From own husband I have pain... but is new lover better gain?" uncertainly-shy longs the forth.

"Without family, we have a lot of joyful, shining staff... who didn't want us is just shy, so let them rot and let them die!" as though gives orders to dead ones the fifth.

"You're rather damned, never cool – I'll rather die than marry, fool!" dives in hysterics the sixth.

"All women are silly, but I am – the queen! I can go right and left in sin!" categorically assures the seven.

"The less we love the women shit, the more effortless we hit!" share his deadly wisdom the eight.

"You had betrayed, I saw token! Keep silence now, my heart is broken!" chatters abstrusely the nine.

"No faith, no trust, no beg, my friend, but carry insults through heart's land" calls for humility the tenth.

"Love is like a dream – yet dreams die. Just money help us reach the sky" is proud of his cost the eleventh.

"I love myself, and that is cool. To love the others? I'm not a fool!" secretly admits the twelfth.

"Gods gave us love and paradise – stop lying now, just rise, rise, rise!" frankly raves the thirteenth.

Graves, graves, graves...

This is an eternal cemetery.

Almost everyone comes here before taking his true place. He silently digs cold dead earth with his own hands, and so silently digs in himself.

The ones who came here died voluntarily. And those risen from dead looks like humans no more.

They have no idea if there are resurrected ones. But rising from dead often wander the streets of yet living cities. And it's impossible to put the pain, tormenting them, into words.

There is a legend that those risen from the dead can only be cured by the one who made them. But few resurrected ones know a different truth.

They know the truth of the Alive City.

It does exist – and yet it doesn't.

It always was – but they preferred to keep silence of its existence previously.

It first averts you as something intolerably bitter – but few ones have time to feel its true sweet.

It's similar to an ancient mountain towering among lowlands, yet less and less are willing to climb to its top.

It grows outside and inside of you invisibly, lightening all corners of your soul. And that is why so many consider it as nonexistent.

Its fragrance seems stench from distance and illumination – as its fire.

Practically no one came back from it. And those few who did were humans no more.

So much has been told about it, yet this does not increase the number of its pilgrims.

It never died – and that is why it doesn't know such thing as death.

It has been born long before the human.

Will he once remember it?

23.12.2009