The Dialogs

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,

And fumes subside, and we 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 candle light 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 ever thread them back to treasure, and keep the precious pattern of your gems? And will I ever 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, or evil doing… It's mostly our response, framed rigidly by our perception, reaction of our matter… How can we change this?

***

You've sent me to the Past of yours. Again.

You know, how have I 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 close the circle of time around your tired shoulders.

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.

***

I love the words, you say…

You seem to know a right way to cook them.

I used to have them fresh.

The aftertaste at times was bitter, though.

***

You are either busy labeling waves, or you just surf them.

***

Along with April, cautious and shy, I’m aching for the Sun.

And trees are wearing only clouds yet.

Low skies fall heavy on my shoulders,

Suffocating, I want to tear them off.

***

Old Tide fell tired once. Same shore, same sand, and same light-minded foam…

Same waste He had to carry on his shoulders from the depths.

And suddenly he heard the girl, she bent to Him, she was caressing his grey curls,

‘You must be ever young. The ornaments and patterns you paint on sand for us are never same.’

***

The Ocean might look the same for you…

But with the Sun, that spills the whole world and skies all over his surface every morning, breaks into millions sparkles, or melts in its serene waves;

And with the wind so ever pushing, chasing, or caressing;

And Moon, that draws a road to heaven on the water,

Each moment turns precious and unique…

***

Most sentences for me look better if adorned with question mark, or any other shade of doubt.

***

I’ve never had to part with love, and faith, and hope,

I always walk around with my eternal unicorn;

They think all my possessions are so ever non-existent.

How can they see… or rob them of me?

***

How many days of war it takes to notice,

That stars look like the holes from bullets in the black backdrop of skies?

A month, or years?

How many years of peace restored it takes to get them back to awesome?

***

And Spring, young bride, takes of her white attire

Along with naughty temper of a girl,

And puts on sweet contentment of a young wife,

Rich bright green clothes of young Summer.

***

The fragrance of wild cherries on the 9th of May in 1945 was suffocating.

We were 20 million short of those who might enjoy it…

***

We learned to close our eyes on people pain, injustice, grief,

We tamed the pangs of our conscience, our tears,

All those manifestations of the God which are acute for us in either grace, or suffering, too much…

How we would deal with such a trifle as scientific proof of God's existence?

In Gravity we trust, but not because of scientific proof!

We never are afraid to fall from planet's surface…

***

Not all of us have enough to invest, but all of us have enough to share.

The world was drawing a picture of me.

Drew, edited, erased the part it would not like,

Year after year rejecting first my mind, my heart,

The burden of my emotions, my speech,

Till nothing’s left except a blank page of paper.

***

Wind travels all the Earth.

He kisses water and caresses grass,

Plays hide and seek in woods, and laughs with birds…

He dips his brush in rivers, seas and oceans,

And paints his memories on the canvas on the sky with clouds.

***

Use often the anesthetic power of silence.

***

Your loneliness might prove the best friend ever.

It won’t betray you, never.

***

June comes, and ships of houses go travelling green ocean of Summer.

***

‘Do you believe me?’ he asked.

‘I do. But only once I’d trust such answer if I were you,’ she answered.

***

Seems, trust was invented by the first who was about to lie.

***

I wish you’d listen to the rain.

The thunder comes the first, the sounds of pure awe, dense, deafening;

Not thin like those stirs and coughs and laughs suppressed politely before the concert. I wish you would embrace rough touches of the wind. Then lightning makes your eyes alert and seeking the horizon for other sights of Mighty will.

And you'd be longing for raindrops to feel the taste of skies by skin and lips.

You’d breathe and savor once again the smell of earth and rain.

***

For so many people the only homelike warmth is a charity blanket.

***

Every day of our life in “near to death experience”.

***

The precious lace of Barcelona…

Weaved from the finest tissue of sophisticated thoughts of genius architects

And dreams of Calliope and sycamores shadows.

***

I wonder, if you’ve ever noticed how hurting body makes you love life,

And hurting mind makes you love death?

***

Two people meant to be together for Never.

Two people grieving being apart for life.

***

How many times the bridge made from all weapons of the world might circle the Globe? We all would be connected in all directions…

***

He said, ‘Take Summer as my gift.’

He put the necklaces of morning dew around her neck,

And wrapped her in the finest laces,

That looked like sunny sparkles on the brightest blue of midday river.

He laid soft grasses under her feet, and shawled her into warm and lavish greens.

She loved it.

***

It takes five our basic senses to notice any slightest difference between us,

Appreciate it, learn, respect or benefit from it like kids or animals would do.

It takes an intellect to make a cause for arguing and conflict, and new wars

Because we found a difference, a deviation from a norm of our own.

***

He looks like deaf to pleadings, blind to wounds, and heartless to your pains?

He cares, like any loving father.

He won’t help if you can cope yourself.

***

Last August days, like no man’s land between the summer gone and autumn coming.

Days feel like endless evenings, quiet, yellow, honey-like…

Sun streaming down tree branches looks too tired, longing for the night embrace.

***

How many messages and books and talks turned into fallen leaves;

Just quiet rustle of pages and letters deprived of meaning love and life forever?

***

‘I wonder, if there is a picture of universal beauty,

Which would look perfect for everyone, no matter time, or country, set of minds?’ he mused.

She smiled, ‘Whatever, if the peace is pictured…’

***

If there were any unquestionable theory on this planet,

It would be the truth, and there would be only one left.

But there are so many theories around…

***

Some of us live up to their words.

You've always lived up to your silence.

***

Sky looks grotesque, and flight of birds – bizarre.

Wind desperately tries to talk to them, but they are falling into sleep:

Last dance of the October Wind and fallen leaves is full of tears

And hopeful questions and answers faint and never to the point.

He asks again and yet again, but knows he’ll never hear the words he waits.

His hands are empty, he's dancing all alone.

***

We litter our rivers, turn them into gutters,

Dump their shores, mar godlike blue of their faces.

If only we could hear them praying,

‘Don't turn away from me, you’d better bury me alive…'

***

With time you'll understand that no one ever was as cruel to you as yourself.

***

Take God's example. Pains of creation followed but routine of mastering his craft,

And listening to same complains, and mending same malfunctions,

And then at rare moments of the rest enjoying his creation,

So ever same, and every time unique…

***

I wonder if the reflection of the world is true in quiet waters…

***

Shadows in the gardens are getting thin,

And shafts of sunlight turn into a harp for winds

To play the music for September empty skies.

***

I'd decorate with those that usually serve,

And use the ones which decorate to serve you…

***

Tears traces are not frightening like those from bullets,

No wounds that threaten lives are left.

Yet, souls are bleeding in silence from the gashes

That might turn lethal for our hearts…

***

November parks and forests feel like summer cabins left for winter.

Shutters closed, no curtains, no little things that decorate the rooms,

And soon the maid will cover old furniture with plain white canvas till new summer.

***

Like autumn leaf, I fell into the river, got soaked with cold November waters

And drowned, reached the bottom. And river flows past me.

I'm always left behind, and I'm ahead on her eternal way…

***

Seems, people tend to shorten stories of their failure to one word…

Like word "a whore", which was created by a man

Who failed to make a goddess of his woman…

***

Sincere answers to the question 'why would you do that?' are given by people rarely older than five years old.

***

There still are places around there

Where our childhood was staying all those years, intact.

Just turn around the corner of Autumn…

Can you remember how easy was it to fall, get up, and run again?

***

You might eventually find what you are looking for: love, friendship, truth or peace, whatever…

I never knew what I was looking for, and when I’ve found, the only name sufficed was -‘daily bread’…

***

What we can share with our children?

All rubbish we would throw around,

Exhausted planet, and diseases we created ourselves,

Incessant wars we have no will to end?

Religions, our moral laws, discredited, mocked at,

Or arts turned into slaves of money?

They should reject the gift…

***

The end of toilet paper still in your fingers,

But naughty roll breaks free from clumsy hand,

And whole structure of handy and otherwise quite timid thing unfolds under your feet. And you, converted in a sage same instant, would say at last,

‘Why haven’t let it go at once, you silly…’

***

Seems, time is dense…

Most solid force dividing people, impartial, so difficult to reason with.

How many friendships, loves, devotions succumbed to it.

***

December Wind got trapped by pearly skies so ever flawless gray,

Went hopeless, turned to weaving dragons, birds, winged dancers

Out of the chimney smokes to entertain himself.

December Sun went hiding in the maze of city streets.

If you should meet Him on a frozen crossroad, what an embrace of all his rays you’d get.

December days got short like a waltz of snowflakes caught in the light of street lamps. Got lost in the Winter, we are…

***

Sure, I could get you to the other safer shore or Heaven,

If only you could take me just the way I am.

***

Your heart remembers well the price of immortality:

Dare take the poison of the sorrows, pains and evils of the world

To walk the water, time and space.

Yet, why blue color of the Shiva throat looks just like the rope trace on Judas' neck?

***

He sure might bring you a stormy year,

Yet, with the hardships He would send two wings

To carry you across the misty valley of bitterness and loss,

And friendly shoulders you could hide your tears on.

That is the way He is.

***

The best of wordings might fall victim to our crippled perception.

***

You taught me well to take my life and you, my happiness, my grief,

By tiny sips, no gulps.

Like old and precious wine.

That’s how it’ll be cure, not poison…

***

Same twinkling lights of festive decoration, which made you smile and brought new hopes, would make you sad when holidays are gone…

No doubt they will serve and shine next Christmas as good as ever.

Well, take as great example, ‘just shine if asked, if not – take rest, enjoy the weather’.