After long hours of maneuvering through a group of performers in a vain ambition circus evening show I got in my time vehicle. Directed it eastward and randomly determined time in the past. I have not gone too far in the darkness of the night, just so far to remember love, whose signs have become dust on the road and whose heat long ago vanished like the flame of a match, maybe lasted one minute, one year, one life, somebody's, past. I pass down the meadows of freedom by the groves of fresh hope. While I'm welcomed by the parading masquerade, I wave them with my cylinder full of lost dreams that bounce with every movement. The East is far and cool place of my ancestors. The path led me to the river of my youth on the boulevard of smiles, where hurried steps of memories resound, and the east wind brings chills and freezes fragile human bone structures. In the east, the mirrors are flat, enigmatic glances crumbling far away and sweet smiles have familiar scent. There, the sun is warmer and blue sky softer, color of hope reaches through the dense fog of deception. On the edge of the world there is a dam. Above it rises the white veil and obstructs views to penetrate the future. On the other side there is silence and nothingness or another undetected quite ordinary world of human misery and aspirations for a better, nicer, easier, more ordinary life.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
After long hours of maneuvering through a group of performers in a vain ambition circus evening show I got in my time vehicle. Directed it eastward and randomly determined time in the past. I have not gone too far in the darkness of the night, just so far to remember love, whose signs have become dust on the road and whose heat long ago vanished like the flame of a match, maybe lasted one minute, one year, one life, somebody's, past. I pass down the meadows of freedom by the groves of fresh hope. While I'm welcomed by the parading masquerade, I wave them with my cylinder full of lost dreams that bounce with every movement. The East is far and cool place of my ancestors. The path led me to the river of my youth on the boulevard of smiles, where hurried steps of memories resound, and the east wind brings chills and freezes fragile human bone structures. In the east, the mirrors are flat, enigmatic glances crumbling far away and sweet smiles have familiar scent. There, the sun is warmer and blue sky softer, color of hope reaches through the dense fog of deception. On the edge of the world there is a dam. Above it rises the white veil and obstructs views to penetrate the future. On the other side there is silence and nothingness or another undetected quite ordinary world of human misery and aspirations for a better, nicer, easier, more ordinary life.
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