the Highest Powers, that you don’t even notice how you are dirtying the souls of your own children, thus starting slowly killing yourselves as well. No sort of pills will ever help you to purify yourselves from own-brought spiritual infection. But, maybe, suffering, you will once learn to truly love each other …
For it is the love of which all the true prophets were telling you! But whether it is the love glimmering in the hearts of those who have proclaimed themselves as their followers? Oh, if only it was that way! But a thirst for wealth and power possessed them and made their hearts stale to human suffering. Therefore do they feast nowadays in luxury with the world being on the break, but whether it’s not a feast during a plague time? Therefore ready they are to willingly rob the ones trusting them of their last possessions, and banish them back to the God, whom they serve not. Maybe someone, banished by these servants, will once find the Maker outside of temples walls. Maybe at least some will understand that the God is not living in the houses of those worshipping a mammon. Maybe they will once bring this message to others.
May you know that this world is still alive only thanking to the God’s Greatest Favor. Only His endless love constrains that relentless stream of evil born by you, which is capable of destroying this world in a single flash of time, having found itself a way out. His Hands have the God stretched over this world and carries it in them like it is a child. And have a feeling I do that He desires it greatly for this world to survive. But some of your kind still have enough impudence to accuse Him of the absence of care of your modest personalities!
Maybe, one day you will see everything clearly. Maybe, you will manage to understand and do something of vital importance in your lives. Maybe you will get rid of the illusions which have flooded your world. Maybe, you will finally fall in love with the One who have given a birth to your spirit and have gifted you a wonderful home. Maybe under His care and with His great aid you will once transform this world into a living Paradise.
Oh, how wonderful would that be!
Of the Princes, who do not exist
One day this will happen.
Your prince on a white horse will once come to you, though you will not hear him. You will not notice him in human crowd, you will not open your doors when he will knock. You will not recognize him and let him enter, for you have not been waiting. True princes always come unexpectedly.
They need no heralds, announcing their arrival. They need no applause. Shouts of approval of others are not required for them. Even horses are necessary no more.
They always come on their own – with years of hard work and constant challenges they got used to rely only on own powers, they learnt to trust themselves. You will not hear them far off on knocking of hoofs of their dashing horses, you will never see them caracoling. They have left white horses far behind of themselves, for without them they can move faster. They have rejected a gilt harness and a well-cared mane, they have refused convenient saddles. Now they always come on their own.
For that reason you will not recognize him, you will pass by.
If they towered proudly over the others on their graceful horses – they would be too appreciable. But they need no applause.
If they raced you on their snow-white horses – you would never forget this short journey together. But they need no dependence on them.
If they have offered you to marry them – you could not refuse. But they want to see others being free.
They denied this greatness. The stepped down from their horses. They became small princes.
And with time they got lost in a big crowd.
That is why you will not recognize him, for you have not known him. For you knew only big princes – too big to once become small ones. That is why you always look above your head, hoping to see big ones and never noticing the small. They became useless.
And still they come. And still they continue to knock on the door of yours, knowing that those doors will not be opened – for there is nobody inside to do it anymore.
And still they hope that one day, lots of years after, you will remember that quiet knock you have heard so long ago, countless days before, but chosen not to open the door, for the unexpected visitor came in thunder-storm and you were too afraid to presoak your feet. Yes, you will remember it once – and smile, having understood, what sort of traveller was on the road.
Seldom, very seldom they come to those who could open the doors - but doors still stand closed – for there is no one to open them from the inside.
They have not died out. They have not vanished.
It is you who have killed your princes.
PPP
Totally not belonging here proverb
Believe us or not, but no longer can we suffer and hide that recent history from you, happened with us by the will of life, for do we feel it, accurately somewhere under the rib from left side, that marvelous is this story secret and unusual, with meaning still unresolved by us, and instructive brain-washingly. And therefore you, having a talk among us, decided we to tell at least a little, so that can you understand from it at least something, and a desire to change yourself acquire in a proper time. For otherwise it all can fail and fall down through the earth, yeah, just like in the PPP we describe ye. Well, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
And do write down that history named for you we – men simple rural of the village Newworldish, Kirill and Mefodiy. But you us, please, with these letter-makers and azbukas-creators do not confuse, for many times were we blamed for it, for they say that we, apparently, invented this great and mighty Russian – we mean, chattering, foul one, yet did forget to add necessary and required words there, so men ours sometimes missed words these in their disputes greatly. And didn’t we invent it, yet only used ! Especially when all that property of our guys along with PPP have fallen down there, oh, how greatly have we used it – so that even invented new words precisely like Kirill and Mefodiy, yeah ! Well, so, looks like we got acquainted with each other a bit, told you of ourselves (especially that particular Kirill who have advised me to write down this particular story for particular future generations to be educated and advised).
So, believe us or not at all and check it all for yourself (but how could it be possible we don’t know, for all that PPP belongings of ours has been locked underground for several years by now, and thus are unable really to be a material evidence of sorts), but everything happened precisely as we are going to tell you here and now.
Living we were all in our Newwordish village, and knew neither the sadness nor the madness. To kids women of ours gave birth, and we together with them brought them up on mind, reason and chastity. Crops we collected plentiful, so that rye and wheat still remained for sale to nearby cities and towns. And cows ours in farms gave milk normally, and hens made eggs large, and sheep were full of fur, and cats exhausted mice completely. And relations with each other we had fine and harmonious – and such good that we didn’t even sweat between ourselves at all (well, unless, say, we take yet another bottle of moonshine on holidays and don’t share it among our men properly – for, yeah, in that case such wall-to-wall fights could take place that only whistle, ahs, ohs and dust to knees was carried throughout all the village, that’s right). Well, brothers, not a life it was, but a fairytale practically ! Yet didn’t we value that tranquility and peace seriously, and for real pennies for horrors other-worldly did we exchange them, and of that mistake we have been grieving still.
And here how the story goes. Somehow merchants overseas arrived to us from Newdevilish village. And merchants they were because in clothes were they dressed unusual – men in some jackets black in color with canes
