On the Wings of Hope : Prose

V.V.P. :- Oh no, drop weapons, wars don’t rock!

Fyodor :- It is, my friend, was sort of joke. My hero once was axe-bearer, but time of change is coming near, so he is now with blade of word …

V.V.P. :- It’s such a wonderful accord!

Fyodor :- In ranks of friends, and in due time, this time I’m battling with a rhyme!

V.V.P. :- The Maker gave this great gift?

Fyodor :- The souls of others it can lift!

V.V.P. :- That honor’s great without doubt …

Fyodor :- And epochs starting their new round …

V.V.P. :- The clouds of darkness are no more … but can you see what lies afore?

Fyodor :- The Russia will awake from sleep, inspired again, no longer sick.

V.V.P. :- The beast is crawling back in hole …

Fyodor :- The spring is coming, spring for all!

V.V.P. :- All cockroaches run from light, for do thrive only in the blight …

Fyodor :- The house Landlord is now here - and kind ones should feel never fear.

V.V.P. :- The light is burning thieves’ backs, their minds do spin with consciousness “crack”s.

Fyodor :- I see the Russia’s hoping all. What’s with Saxons?

V.V.P. :- They paid their toll.

Fyodor :- You mean they cursed their banks?

V.V.P. :- I mean they’ve put on aqualungs!

Fyodor :- For long time they’ve been hating us … is the Atlantis better thus?

V.V.P. :- No longer they have their home. The England, well … it’s sort of … gone.

Fyodor :- Empire fell with awful smell?

V.V.P. :- And shouldn’t it? The water, well …

Fyodor :- Oh my, you mean they had to dive and swim away to save their life?

V.V.P. :- The nature gave reply to crimes, from the “third world” they are sucking “fines” …

Fyodor :- What is that light in such dense fog?

V.V.P. :- It’s Scotland’s fire! These guys rock!

Fyodor :- They truly are the mountains sons!

V.V.P. :- The world is changing with no guns…

Fyodor :- All fools believed that life is still.

V.V.P. :- The speed of change they will soon feel!

Fyodor :- The inner wisdom never sleeps … I would prefer to watch your tips.

Kremlin Square starts quickly disappearing from sight, getting smaller and smaller, leaving one with a pride in a soul for the Russian people, camera starts winding of streets and suddenly stops before some large capital library, before gates of which a true and real fire is burning! Its borders and limits are, however, being successfully controller by passing here and there processions with torches, who help to burn the pilled-up paper waste and supervise that ashes of her shabby knowledge weren’t carried by a blowing wind too far on the world. On faces of participants of procession it’s possible to notice a surprising mix of grief and inner joy at the same time. Periodically here and there war-calls in the spirit of “Burn right and bright, let’s end the blight!” can be overheard. Action intrigues, shocks and bewitches strenuously and practically unstoppably.

Fyodor :- What sort of field there burns?

V.V.P. :- They are throwing textbooks in the urns!

Fyodor :- To hear inner wisdom’s voice they had to make such funny choice?

V.V.P. :- All rubbish knowledge is like ash, so lots of theories have crashed.

Fyodor :- The joy of life the Maker gives … yet not to traitors, not to thieves.

V.V.P. :- The time has come for us to fly. Still move in cars … don’t we feel shy?

Fyodor :- The cars can still have reason, yes, but shall be changed by progress.

V.V.P. :- Another type of fuel here, no more oil, wars and fear.

Fyodor :- Let Earth take finally some rest. Those new inventions are the best.

V.V.P. :- No scientific idle wander, spiritual science is like thunder.

Fyodor :- For if there is just mind plus greed, for bombs then we are planting seed.

V.V.P. :- No longer mankind making bombs, no more digging catacombs.

Fyodor :- And what with these that have been made?

V.V.P. :- Theirs only fate is to degrade.

Fyodor :- What do you mean? Again in fight?!

V.V.P. :- No way! One sees his soul’s might!

Fyodor :- I have been almost terrified. Deserve they honor by the right!

V.V.P. :- And tons of metal are now free … where will they use it, we shall see!

Fyodor :- They melt all cannons and know not where would that metal all be brought?

V.V.P. :- They’ve dug that metal quite a lot applying wrongly with no thought.

Fyodor :- And now it’s time for worthy goal. The greedy one pays double toll!

V.V.P. :- Oh yeah, one thing I find quite funny - how will they pay without money?

Fyodor :- With little money little gore?

V.V.P. :- All money gone, they are no more!

Fyodor :- Is this some sort of New World’s charter?

V.V.P. :- Good times of innocence and barter!

Fyodor :- One never knows they ways of fates! And what of currencies and rates?

V.V.P. :- Without them still people thrive. But at how those brokers live!

It’s obvious that heavenly apologist Ivan very reluctantly says goodbye to contemplation of burning fields of shabby books, so bewitching the sight of unprepared viewer, but, nevertheless, curiosity together with a call of duty finally prevails, and he, having waved a hand to all torches procession, and shouted to them something like “Hasta la vista!”, for one another time soars up to heavens like a free bird. He continues for some time to habitually wind of city streets at level of the third of fourth floor of buildings, and then with a gallop if, certainly, such a term is even applicable to such sort of movement, flies into the opened door of the currency exchange building.

Straight off it becomes clear that senseless vanity which once filled this senseless institution sank into oblivion in no time, for the rats, creeping here and there on parquets, have become practically the main inhabitants of this institution, as well as some individuals of doubtful degree of rationality with sad looks on their faces, periodically bursting in cries like “Blue counters, blue counters, they are the gingerbreads for money launders!”, “Will lend for five and take for three, I shall be reach, oh you will see!”, “Bulls and bears are not pears … run away … back off, I say!”. Similar chaos is supplemented by scattered here and there packs of cash of most different forms and coloring, on some on which aforementioned rats have already managed to make their notes. In general this picture leaves a strongly feeling of a madhouse which was left by all medics already along with the majority of their patients, excluding the most persistent ones from the second group.

Fyodor :- Is that too good, is that too bad? It’s like a house for the mad!

V.V.P. :- The parasites did crawl here … now crocodiles cry with tears.

Fyodor :- In kindergarten they should go who orchestrated “money flow”.

V.V.P. :- They are descending and know not … their desires make greed hot.

Fyodor :- They have been warned long ago, but didn’t change their spirit’s “flow”.

V.V.P. :- Let’s stop beholding their fate … no more course, no more rate …

Fyodor :- Back then to churchmen? No, no reasons.

V.V.P. :- Some men did leave the cages of prisons!

Fyodor :- Those ones without great crimes were given work to pay the “fines”?

V.V.P. :- Who Divine Law have understood, expiate crimes in work for good.

Fyodor :- Each one will show what holds inside … humility forges roads for right.