On the Wings of Hope : Prose

V.V.P. :- Leave for good! The world of wonders is the choice, the God has heard appealing voice…

Fyodor :- Where are our physicists can we see? Vomit in toilets or have flee?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us the institute! They are “praying” there now for good.

Camera suddenly twitches, sharply floats somewhere downwards, then upwards, again downwards and upwards, speeding up on its way, and then for the last time dives down and flies directly into the open doors of some building, dives in corridors for a few times and then stand still in immovability. A huge hall opens before televiewers, filled with people in glasses, dressed in white dressing gowns. Those ones, standing near walls, amicable as though on command, with a periodicity of several seconds hit the wall with their heads, making a sound, somewhat resembling a “bom!” Those unlucky ones, who have got no walls in their direct possession, are standing in the center of the hall on their knees, and with so smaller persistence strike a stone floor with their foreheads with approximately similar periodicity. The show depresses and bewitches simultaneously.

Fyodor :- Oh, stop this nonsense, help them heal, or other way themselves they’ll kill!

V.V.P. :- Ones in depression cannot thrive. Such is the way of disbelief.

Fyodor :- Their minds are useful still. Hope soon better they will feel.

V.V.P. :- To learn themselves they do not try … and in such actions their soul cry.

Fyodor :- One cannot learn himself through mind, a path to soul must he find.

V.V.P. :- I hope someday they’ll read this text. What are we going to watch next?

Fyodor :- In what casemates priest creep, being left without “faithful” sheep?

V.V.P. :- Ivan have seen how faithful ones pray not in church, yet sing and dance!

Camera changes its foreshortening once more, takes off from an institute building, winding through narrow and twisting corridors, then soars up in heavens and rushes in whitish clouds, from time to time looking at the sun as if for the sake of joy. Then sharply dives downwards, hardly not hitting an iron cross, decorating the top of the building, and flies into the open gate of some large temple. A truly intriguing picture reveals before the eyes: the last left in the church priest does, apparently, something unimaginable. He periodically fills his hands with a handful of “sacred” water and “tastes” it on a tongue, promptly screwing up ones face and meffedly whispering something under the nose; or removes a heavy cross, hanging on a neck, and strikes himself with it into a forehead, shouting “Amen” for better effect; or approaches a random icon, and starts ogling; or sits down on a floor in a pose of a lotus and begins beating out a tap dance on all the crosses, necklaces and other jewelry, covering his body; or with a heart-rendering cries “I banish thee, I tell ya!” starts rushing over a hall, threating someone invisible with a overgilded cross. This show frightens, intrigues and bewitches at the same time.

Fyodor :- I wonder, is that priest mad?

V.V.P. :- A ritual plague this priest had.

Fyodor :- All forms he mixed, but essence - miss … was priest kissed by abyss?

V.V.P. :- For quite a long their god is money, all actions strange, few souls are sunny, and even stupid ritual he can’t perform, for it’s so dull.

Fyodor :- If they possess no more sheep, there is no need for gold and whip?

V.V.P. :- Let’s them cut fur from their bodies, and all those “donated” goodies.

Fyodor :- They’ve served a golden calf so well, had their feasts in their fall - was their list of crimes too fat?

V.V.P. :- I guess we’ll keep in secret that!

Fyodor :- The priests are not doing well … watch politicians, friend, we shall?

V.V.P. :- No reason watching them, I think - to guzzle oats and vodka’s drink?

Fyodor :- Oats and vodka? Funny move! That’s how their holiness they prove?

V.V.P. :- They are doing that for quite a time! With Faberge eggs they play ping-pong, and left their mansions with gold pools, still loudly crying: “We were fools!”

Fyodor :- Those are, no doubt, timely thoughts!

V.V.P. :- Hi, politician! Eat now the oats!

Fyodor :- Have they ground off their teeth, trying all to bite and tease? Or have enlightenment just come, and they have learned their own harm?

V.V.P. :- They were shocked, then were crying when Ivan was zealously flying! And just besides in own dreams they saw the tombs, prepared for sins. They saw what is awaiting them, and since these days they are in the lam.

Fyodor :- The avaricious knight has learned the price of blight, confirmed that he was fool and sat in dirty pool?

V.V.P. :- Sort of, my friend, it is quite so … the politician has fallen low. Already soon he’ll leave the scene, for oh-so-bloody it has been.

Fyodor :- What if he gives away all gold?

V.V.P. :- Another fate may then unfold. But he collected all in holes, for long perceiving own goals.

Fyodor :- He may present someone somewhere, to share with others - that is fair!

V.V.P. :- Every task can you endure, if your soul’s always pure!

Fyodor :- Oats with them we’ll not consume, and leave them all alone to fume. I guess at last the time has come to watch medical outcome! For long they’ve rescued only bodies - what has become with their goodies?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us the plot for now, and fly in heavens … you know how!

Camera changes its foreshortening for one more time, turning away from a raging priest, who is crying out “Ya fly away from there, I banish ya!”, takes into opened temple’s gates and rises into heavens. For some time a spectator can observe landscapes replacing each other far below, beginning from vast forest and finishing with apparently endless roads, leading goodness know where and goodness know what for, and then starts a traditional sharp dive and the picture of a city’s dump reveals before one’s eyes. Huge dump - I would even say a picture of massive waste. It’s clearly visible a row of cars standing before a dump, competing with each other in the holy right to be emptied as soon as possible. During the “emptying” of a next garbage truck it becomes visible, how from its body a big heaps of some tablets of all possible forms and coloring, some bags filled with powder, and finally some jars and bottles with every possible mixtures are rolled out and fall down into this already huge heap. All this medical junk amicably flies downwards from a heap’s top, ringing and as though clinking with invisible hooves in the process. This magnificent picture is finalized with striding here and there between heaps fire-bearers with torches, who persistently and methodically try to send all this unloaded junk to a fire for eating.

Fyodor :- Burning bright, a finest light!

V.V.P. :- Look in the sky - Ivans do fly!

Fyodor :- Fine to remember of own childhood, these fire-bearers are like Robins Hoods! Medicines burn with a wonderful glow, former diseased express their “love” …

V.V.P. :- People of Earth heal each other, energies holy were granted by Father.

Fyodor :- A funny change in medicines … diseases are caused by own sins!

V.V.P. :- A true belief can cure one! The one’s, becoming divine son, mistakes must own understand to travel then in wonderland. They now were healed by the God, they sing and dance, and praise and glad!

Fyodor :- And by all means, that is just fine! Beloved topic that’s of mine … I am again on the road, and happy thinking of the God.

V.V.P. :- We both, my Fyodor, know of that - this planet was in state so bad, but now the healing in near … and the new Earth will know no fear. The age of light now comes to life …

Fyodor :- I wonder, who will that survive?

05.02.2012