I
Their voice rapped the portals
and from the dim smoke
a white pigeon sprung
and followed the trail downwards
The crests of the churches,
sharp shelters for the wounded
that come from above
and from below
Are the firmaments raining fire?
For my eyes have filled with tears of black
and my soul's purified
Is this your delivering message?
For lakes, mountains,
beasts and humans are waiting,
and we shall always do
II
Will the Theatre of Pain
be utterly empty one day?
We are actors that do not dare
to read the elder lines
Nomads amidst the sandstorm
in our sinful minds
Shall I drink my animal's blood?
For my people's thirsty for salvation
in this deserted land
and I only saw once a roaming scrap
from your royal garments
Faith is hanging from a thread
And only in the night-praying hours
the poetry's lines true shine
Do not be the actor
that turns his back
on the crowd's clapping
III
Everything is appointed
the prophets have spoken
Will, you always love
those who betray?
Spreading words of hope
to the humble with burned faces
The needy have already
flooded the empty rivers
and Pharaoh's wrath is not well locked
I know not how many
are living up there
but I do know how many
are building the realm of Hades
The flame shall kneel before you
and oceans will be divided into two
Once the ominous words
are heard inside your Temple again
This poem is influenced by the sacred music of Father Serafim and his chants from Georgia. I cite the link below
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OB3B3flMjsM