You are

You say, that God does not exist. And I tell you, that He exists no more exclusively for you.

You grieve, that He has forsaken your world long ago. And I reply, that it was you, who barricaded from Him in the smallest world of your own, which has nothing in common with the greater one.

You complain that life is cruel and unfair. And I recommend you to look at yourselves in a mirror in the upcoming morning.

You grieve of the dead ones as those lost to this world forever. And I am starting to assert that they were lost exclusively for the vanity of yours.

You curse your work, thinking of it as a routine which takes away the time of your life aimlessly. And I ask you, what will your life look like without your work on yourselves?

You despise your enemies. And I know, how they all become the stones of non-hindrance on the road of life, once you have finally grown the wings for flight.

You all thirst for love, but, finding none, are ready to jump from the rocks of broken hopes into abysses of hatred. And I desire to know the true value of such feelings.

You state that life makes no sense and holds no purpose. And I will whisper to you, that you did not even try to search.

You declare the impossibility of possible and deny incredibility of the obvious.  And I see, how previously impossible becomes obvious, and incredible becomes possible.

You guess that life is inconceivable without movement. And I ask you not to confuse impulses of the soul to petty vanity.

You worry that you do not understand others. And I am interested in questioning you – “Do you even know yourselves?”

You pursue life's success in hopes to get it in time, and are ready to walk over others heads. And I tell you that you are always late, for you have chosen the wrong road.

You feel proud that belief is not necessary to the learned.  And I ask you whether you could learn, not believing in the possibility of the learned?

You speak of generosity and share pieces of stale bread, continuing to consume red caviar over both your cheeks. You speak of goodwill and draw a knife behind each other's backs. You speak of wisdom and share thousand and one way to deceive those close to you. And I dare to believe that you will open your eyes one day and stop confusing darkness to the light.

You question, how I can state what I do not know. And I advise you to pour out ashes from bags of your knowledge.

You tell me that I repeat myself and cross spots, passed previously, again. And I will simply ask you to look up.

You will tell that it is banal. And I will continue hoping.

You will tell that you have heard and passed all this before. And with a grief in my eyes, I will watch you passing by once again…


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Short Story
writing prokhor_ozornin
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