Dialogues

***

They are just servants to Almighty Gravity. They gladly let you down: air, water; earth treacherously turns into quick sands; time changes people into lines of words on their tombstones and grinds our words along with our beliefs and concepts, our trust and courage into dust. Time proves that there’s only Gravity to trust.

***

To love one just the way one is… You’ve sifted me through the grates of whims and standards to find the gold in me, disintegrated me to atoms selecting only oxygen of me. And in the end, you’ve loved the chaos left, of which you were the sole creator.

***

Like winds between the Earth and heaven, like clouds in the sky, like river waters or leaves of aspens on a quiet evening I dance to my own music. You cannot hear it, you cannot see my partner.

***

No matter, have you got your status from your birth, worked hard to earn, or sold your soul for it… If there is no reason you would give it up for, you are same slave as those born into castes and customs and sold for money with a brand traditionally burnt in their flesh.

***

Afar from time and space we meet and love. We fall in time and space if we depart. That’s when we learn to notice time and space. We cross the days from our existence; we count the days until we meet again.

***

Don’t mourn for me. I’ll never stop to be the best example of most healthiest defiance. You’d better help. Sincerely, The Earth.

***

I contemplate your vastness, I beg to help me see, to cure my deafness, numbness of my limbs. You put me into a paddling pool of patronizing pity. Your condescension won’t love its own child, my cute defiance. I leave for barren plains. Pale skies and August silence are so near, And I’m already longing for September.

***

Стою у открытого окна, ломаю батон, кормлю голубей. Вдруг утренний, хрипловатый, не было еще чаю с плюшкой, голос: «Прекращайте их кормить, вы их кормите, а они мне всю машину обгадили».

Закрываю окно. Ну, верно, давайте перестанем кормить голубей и бездомных кошек, давайте срубим деревья, закатаем всю планету в асфальт, пусть вашей машине будет хорошо.

Окно открою позже, когда уедут машины, без нас, людей, на планете тоже нельзя, наверное…

*The window is open, I’m feeding bread crumbles to some birds; a voice all of a sudden, ‘stop feeding them, all my car is covered in their excrements.’

I close the window. Sure, I think, let’s stop feeding birds and stray animals, let’s cut all trees and cover the whole planes with asphalt, let’s do anything to please your cars.

I’ll open the window again later, when all cars leave. This world won’t exist without people, probably… At least for people…

***

If I'd be your creation, I'd say through tears and smiles of those who would behold me, ‘Oh, thank you Master’. Listen!

***

So gorgeous a word ‘to share’. To share the road means to be ready to go together and respect the different speed of others, their different directions. And it implies some plenty, always! Five loaves of bread were quite enough to fill five thousand pairs of hands. Sometimes it means ‘to take’. To take one’s pain and tears, and grief. To have enough of heart to hurt for others.

***

Lo, morning fogs hush dreams and secrets of my tired Summer; listen, whispers of the wind in fields now barren are no more; and evening choruses of frogs and songs of brooks went silent. My swallows are still here, with me, and their chirping makes louder the quietness of August.

***

Depression.

I made a hole of Moon on sooty glass of sky. Come, have a look. Come closer, till you feel a draw, you'll feel like a kitten taken into that warm house on the hill right from a frozen dump. It’s all that charcoal colour of the sky enchanting me… Thanks for the falling star you’ve sent. It looked like the gleamy line left by a match that won’t ignite, won’t budge to fire. Ah, silly thing, they’ll throw you away…

***

Don't be afraid to loosen your grip, let go of a straw you call "forever"; go, take that dive. You'll catch the wind and never doubt its hands or own wings again. You will appreciate sensation in your chest, it tastes of freedom. You won't betray this feeling ever to any fear or hesitation.

***

I listened to your heart, so ever genuine and gorgeous silence. You’ve listened mine: so ever chirping, ticking days and weeks, and marking months and seasons, celebrating years; and telling you incessant stories of my mornings, singing lullabies for night. You listened to me and smiled, you knew, that all my stories are your own silence. That’s where all sounds, rhythms and words and music of the world are born.

***

Music is the most beautiful face of Silence.

***

That gorgeous dance of black and white, of good and evil, shadow and light, of stars and space behind the window of the sky. Myself and silence, my best partner and listener forever. We’ve never needed any words to fill the void between us. There’s never been a void.

***

My August is wearing off, and silence fills the skies and fields; and shadows of the trees turn lace-like, leaves become transparent. Web necklaces sparkle with the morning dew. Now Nature looks so feminine. She’s taking off her gorgeous attires. She hangs them all around the room just to admire one more time before she hides them in her treasure chest for winter. They fill the whole house with the scents of Autumn.

***

My memory, tenacious, greedy, it spares each slightest detail. They grow sweet with time, the others hurt, bring bitter tears again. To the beginning of this story though… I wished once to forget and let it go, be born as new next morning. My prayer’s heard, I died that very moment.

***

I’m torn between two loves: my love towards the noise of life, the sounds of the world and love of silence I have known once and had to leave and fell in love with every time we met again and treasure our every meeting. I savour every minute given…

***

Late September. Thin ice on water faces in the morning, fragile as wings of dragonflies. It can be broken, seems, by a mere thought or melted by a wistful look of a stranger. Ice of your face, it’s broken too, and tears are freed by thoughts about someone dear...

***

You’ve learned and known me by heart. Of course, you’ve written me, word after word… You’ve given me your words, your voice. How can you still discern the point you end and I begin?

***

Those summer rains that soothe the heat of July sun, yet never make you open your umbrella. You savor them, you know for sure they’d only last enough for you to breathe bright scented air and rest your eyes in sudden twilight of noontime…

***

I wonder if our most sincere faith is simply our visceral knowledge we have not recognized yet? …

***

You’ve never said hello and your goodbyes I’ve always felt like final ones. You’ve always left me open, like your workbook. You gave me all your words. You rebelled Time. I just was lucky…

***

She comes as sadness first and settles in your heart in August. Then silence in the fields and orchards follows; skies turn deprived of summer songsters. She gifts us fragrances of forests and tastes of harvest in September. She bursts in colours of October as parting fireworks. Ah, Autumn comes in waves, like my incessant hope.

***

Make sure it's not your laurel wreath you add into your soups while cooking, leaf after leaf... as common spice... Oh, woman.

***

Sunlight on dancing water waves… smooth, slick, no rush, bright, blinds the eyes. Boats, people are black shadows against that liquid light. Yet, it’s a trick of your perception. Don’t you get blinded trying to discern one’s features against the light. You have to wait when light will fall upon the face and open one’s true colours. Takes time, worth waiting for!

***

In fair memory of Alan Kurdi.

They say our life is chain of our choices. What differs us from a drowned kid? You think it was his choice? Or maybe water chose to make his last inhale so ever painful without any mercy? What triggers our delusion we ever have any choice at all?

***

Same elements, same atoms… Dead trees - wood smells so sweet? Dead people - why they don’t? Our conscience, our thoughts both good and evil? Or something that was good in essence, but date of use expired; or words “I love you” never said, neglected talents, dreams betrayed?

***

How close you are to the truth, if friends seem enemies, and enemies seem friends…

***

Love carved roses from the stone of my heart. Birds of my dreams nestle among the flowers.

***

First snowflakes chase red fox of Autumn into the depths of woods. October.

***

Black raven, darkness, savouring white grains of stars behind my window… It’s genuine delight to contemplate the process. Majestic dignity in every move. Head slightly bent, he blinks at me, his eye is Moon itself. I watch him leaving, and my reflection’s getting lost in his dark pinions…

***

He opens His hands, surrenders you to life, and whispers in your ear, ‘Remember, life is good.’ You never doubt those words; you know them by heart while you are a kid, but then forget… Until the moment He would touch your shoulder, ‘It is time to leave’. Your memory would prompt you, life WAS good. And you agree, ‘Indeed, it was just like you’ve promised…

***

The most simple question never answered: what power makes our hearts pump blood through tight and tired veins? What makes us breathe, spins vortexes of stars and planets? What’s Mighty that creates and contemplates the beauty of the process in silence or humming softly magic tunes no one was able to put in notes yet? Why won’t we follow precious example and fall in silence much more often. Unlikely silence ever started any wars...

***

Eternal inspiration, or a secret of creation? What’s implemented: power or love? Can you revive a piece of foil? You’d smooth it or make wrinkles of the waves or draw the circles like from stones thrown, yet cannot turn into a river, alive and difficult to shape along with naughty mood of yours.

***

Wind casts the net of tattered clouds and draws the Sun from skies so early. Old October. My childish longing for the summer to return is dying along with embers of maples fading among the ashes of the woods. No rescue there from coming winter. Embrace me, please. My hope for spring is safer in your hands.

***

Look at the harmony of whole. See how two parts connected turn into opposite directions, confront each other. Seems, only confrontation keeps that bond…might be this whole world together.

***

The brightest memories from years there, behind the Polar Circle… Short autumn, coloured with soft, pastel, earthly colours mixed in the most exquisite fashion. It comes with the end of August, early September. Polar nights, the Sun pops up for an hour about 11 am, just above the Urals and falls back as if blinded by his own reflection in endless snows… Clear skies with stars bring frost. Snowstorms with winds up to 20-30 meters per second rise the temperature up to -10C, and we would usually go for a walk in the park after them. To you and all the people from continent, as we used to say there, our park would look barren rather. Tundra.

Spring is like life explosion! Nature waits for a certain number of days of agreeable temperature as if to make sure; and then, overnight, the rupture of bright young leaves on short tundra-type birches and willow bushes, and bursts of white marsh-tea flowers all over the smooth hills. Rivers and rivulets return to life. Strange thing, their waters are of brown tints there, but the ice is so pure in its transparency… The snow will hide till the middle of July in nooks and crannies of the hills though.

Polar day; the Sun just won’t leave the sky descending habitually to the Urals but only to get the prop for a new rise. The Sun in summer was in our window at midnight. Once, a new curtain decided to budge to gravity and fell down. Sunlight rushed into the room so abruptly, it seemed we heard the explosion of light invasion. We still laugh when we recall our panic… Job routine was hard there, but we were young and nothing was difficult at that age, we could move mountains.

***

You called me River. You would come and listen to my stories, enjoy our gentle touch. You learned my shallows. I would hide the crushing pressure of my depth. And then one day you left. Well, water gets its biggest power when there’s no ground to rely upon, abyss ahead and wild exciting plunge, a mighty waterfall to contemplate in awe. Well, thanks for that exciting part of my eternal journey to the ocean.

***

Your world collapsed again, crashed into smithereens. Don’t look under your feet at broken pieces all around. No whole picture anymore, no way to know old black from white, each tiny particle reflects your face in tears. Look up, ahead, there still are stars, and moon, there’ll be new dawn… That’s just a habit of all worlds to fall and rise again from time to time.

***

I dream your poems at night and surely get lost among your words and pictures, and evasive glimpses of your face in fragile light of moon still young. I breathe the hell and touch the bliss of heaven in your hands. My wake-up words to you, ‘good morning, life!’

***

That's where I met my swallows, in the city of "too many and too much of everything": Too many buildings, temples, people which won't leave the streets till early morning. The universe of sounds, smells, street food, stray cats of Istanbul. Too many faces, each reminds you somebody you've met, you used to know and love, but then your hope would gasp for life from grief – ah, you’ve mistaken… That feeling is almost painful on these shores.

Bosporus strait and mild green hills belong here, and seagulls are true hosts; and dwellers of the city seem to know it well. They live in a world that ever changes its face. They let it fade away, they love its ruins to live among, to contemplate…

***

What if you think you are not the archer, but an arrow in the hands that know the purpose, won't tremble from some feeble thoughts, or bout of self-pity? You then might feel the real taste of freedom, enjoy the flight and find the aim without any hassle. Just let your ego have a rest for once…

***

Black lace of naked branches against grey vista of the sky, just like a mourning veil with delicate embroidery of raindrops, incessant tears of sad October.

***

Last leaves on trees. November treasures them as a broke would treasure his last coins… The most cherished, the most difficult to spare, the hardest to give away forever.

***

Kids know all questions on this Earth, and only kids know all the answers. They definitely know, where real excitement hides!

***

Late Autumn turned the water of my River cold and heavy, yet calm and crystal clear. And so alone... Her banks are silent, empty now. Till summer She will sleep and contemplate the darkness of her depth.

***

I bring all fruits from seeds you've sown, Almighty Silence, with thanks, for you to sow it further. You never claimed the harvest, though. I bow my head, I'm on my knees. You’ve never asked that, too…

***

They say that darkness flees the light. Yet, they are wrong. She’d stay and face the light and let the myriads of rays pierce her with both: tremendous pain and rapture. Aware, they can’t exist without each other, they celebrate the triumph of the union.

***

You made my days too short for life itself, you filled them up with self, with cold; you robbed the sky from Sun. I thought you were my Night, you said you were my Winter.

***

‘Good morning!’, her heart knocked loudly on his chest.

***

You get them right into your hands the moment you are born. Love, friendship, talents, peace, but never learn to use them… Believe me, all you have to do is simply keep them, treasure in your palms like candlelight on stormy day. Yet, you would say the weight is much too heavy. You drop those gifts one after other, to seize some easy money, easy work, some pleasure close at hand, or armament to fight for your ambitions…

***

Dull rain and darkness paint "the starry night" on puddles of November. I wonder if Van Gogh had learnt from them…

***

Gods themselves had trouble handling it, the power of genuine love. By separating they meant to spare us, might be. Cruel mercy though…

***

You left me once but every moment of my life since then I feel you are leaving me, for countless times already. Can one get used to being left again and yet again? Can silence turn more loud? Yours added to the silence of old friends and graves of those I treasure…

***

They guarded peace, they swore to sacrifice their life for peace, the soldiers. And now you try to use their death to sell us war, another war and yet another…

***

Some drawings of me are flattering, some mean, or envious and mocking. Some are just mediocre, flat. You shouldn’t try to reach beyond the Mighty. He painted me so perfectly, he used most gorgeous colors, his hand was steady, free. He loved me all the way I am. He ran his fingers gently over my lines in wonder what’s within.

***

Might be, Hope is a posthumous child of the most gorgeous couple on Earth: Knowledge and Faith…

***

Let your cat catch your pain on its tail. Let your cat fetch your pain in the yard. Let your cat lose your pain in the grass. Let night bird, hunting prey, catch your pain with its wing. Let night bird fetch your pain to the woods. Let night bird lose your pain in the brambles. Let the bear chomp all berries away from the bush. Let the bear catch your pain with its paws. Let the bear fetch your pain to the lake dark and deep. Let the bear wash your pain all away in the waves. Let the fish catch your pain with its tail. Let the fish fetch your pain to the depth. Let the fish hide your pain under stones on the bed of the lake. Let this story cure, soothe all your aches. Sleep my child, have a rest till new day.

***

I wish we let our children play with our concepts, notions and ideas along with their toys and listen carefully to their opinion. I wonder, how it’ll change the way our progress goes…

***

In company with Angels I hold my breath to listen silence, you created. They envied all you offered me to savor. Tamed Time and Space laid curled up timidly under my feet. They promised me all Grace of Heaven; you promised nothing, and I stayed with you.

***

‘How is it to be happy? What does it mean?’ he asked. She paused, ‘Don't know… I would say it's fine by me to be unhappy.’ He sighed, ‘Please, teach me.’

***

The Sun and Moon and Spring return again and yet again as if they know the fundamental reason to return; and songs of birds are never hopeless, desperate… With trust in them I follow.

***

Not good at praying, but I know, you listen. Day after day I plant into your perfect silence the idea of a world without wars. I guard you in your sleep, your aching heart, your tired mind. I cry for you all tears you can’t afford to show. I soothe your fretting disappointments and I retell you all your dreams you’ve given up on.

***

A string of beads, old gems, a gift from ancestors. It’s a perfect circle, no end and no beginning. I know by heart all imperfections of the stones, I see all their colors with my eyes closed; and all are treasured, there’s no favorites, none ever to be thrown away. That is my life, day after day. I'll give it as a gift to my descendant once.

***

Respect of others depends not on your virtue, but on the virtues of others.

***

How comes they would get separate, my mind and body, soul and God? It’s like an illustration from the book, Geometry Descriptive, the whole being cut apart by plains of rigid concepts, theories, and credos. I wonder, how 2-dimensional whatever, lacking height or depth, might triumph?

***

Please, let me out of those blinding city nights into the darkness that would cure my tired eyes, where silence deafens, and starry skies would pierce my heart with pain returning me to life.

***

Oh, what an evening! Please, come in, take off your mask. How is the world outside? No vine, vine makes me sober. Let’s savor our silence instead. Is that moonlight got tangled in your hair?

***

They were two books that shared eternity together on the same shelf, neither tired from their touch, nor aware what’s inside of each other…

***

We’ve got enough to feed all hungry, shelter strays, stop wars, find compromise and end all conflicts. Why don’t we?

***

We're longing for new spring. We hurry rainy February days, and stormy evenings, those are like chestnut horses, leaving prints of their hooves on crispy morning roads. And in revenge they'd take away whatever we neglect, forget, let go, except our debts... Make sure you keep them close, your dearest…

***

How many turns His signs must dance around for you to see the world He once created as it is and realize the mess we add by our hypocrisy and judgments? Same things are either bad or good and bad again, depends on what we want to gain, what profit… I wish we were like kids that throw a handful of sand into each other if insulted; then fumes subside, and they are friends again. Oh, adults are so very serious about what to throw, and those are often bombs and bullets, wars and hunger, chaos… I wish we’d learn from our children, too…

***

Here only some of us survive. The rest are feeding the statistics…

***

- What’s that behind that song?

- There’s something never lost but never found either.

- What’s that behind your smile?

- My heart that hasn’t stopped but failed to start and finally surrendered to painful fibrillation of my life without someone.

- What’s that behind your eyes?

- It’s candlelight of hope that quivers often lately.

- What’s that you are looking for behind the clouds, water surface, starry skies, tall trees, horizon, time?

- My dreams, my questions answered…

***

I wonder if I’ll ever find them, all those words you scattered around the world, in thousands of books and songs along my life like beads of broken necklace? I wonder if I’ll ever thread them back to treasure and keep the precious pattern of your gems as legacy to leave; or will I break the thread again, in my own turn?

***

Tell me the difference between pure light and darkness, both make you blind; or fire and heavy frost, you can get burnt by both. Same goes with good and evil, seems. It’s our response framed rigidly by senses and perception. How can we change this?

***

You've sent me to the Past of yours. Again. You know how I’ve survived before? I've stayed in Present of my own.

***

Patience is a virtue of those enduring life. Time is the asset for those in a hurry.

***

Please, let me hold your hand, and take you from your end to your beginning, and let me wrap the time around your tired shoulders as a shawl. Please, let me stay forever.

***

It’s a manipulator who'd outstretch his hands to a puppet, never vice versa. Now, who is a slave here?

***

On top of food chain... But what is our place in soul food chain?

***

He opened his eyes, and saw her face, and felt his hands in hers. ‘Wake up. I heard you crying in your sleep, don't worry, it was just a nightmare...’ she said. ‘It was a nightmare. There’s never been you, nowhere…’ He answered.

***