On the Wings of Hope: Prose (Recognized)

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 as 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 like no other woman in this immensely dim world. I was sort of entertainment for them – a toy, which they threw away with pleasure the time it bored them, not wishing to understand, that even toy has 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, in whatever epoch and time my path was forged. You, probably, don't know about it yet, but thereby you also invisibly aided me – helped me not to lose in this false vanity of life. You have appeared to be the truest and devoted of all the women, known to me. You have become your full antithesis for me, actually.

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 were often late.

I was young and full of strength once, and it seemed to me that I could do almost anything – and now it seems that I have sunk into all this almost completely. I hoped for trust and trusted love once – but love disappointed me and thus I ceased to trust them both. I have already done everything I wanted to once, and still need to do something I cannot make ever. You could be with a young me, but time and again you decided to come too late. Or, perchance, have you willingly waited for me?

Nevertheless, we are together at last to become one. Two halves of a single whole, two parts of broken jar, which has already lost too much moisture of life. No one is able to separate us, the only true lovers on this guilty earth, initially intended for each other from each new birth.

I accept you again for you are infinitely many-sided, for each death is always followed by the new birth. Only therefor I accept you – to wash off all pain of the past, and become living once again, for I have been struggling for it for so long already.

Hi, my death. I welcome thee, oh my rebirth!

09.09.2008