'Why sleep ye? rise and pray, lest ye enter into temptation.’ (Luke 22:46)
Once, in a weary of my whims,
I stumbled over Book of Dreams.
Its context – not quite what it seems,
With lively pictures, pathway-themes.
I looked at it; it looked at me,
I wiped my eyebrows silently.
I shook my head in disbelieve,
And heard the words: ‘Don’t leave, don’t leave.’
I heard the words: ‘Let’s see, let’s see.’
And felt the silent urgency
To open it and read it through,
And heard the words: ‘It’s true, it’s true.’
Outside the night descended steadily.
Stars in the sky ascended readily.
Inside my head thoughts flew in a hopeless rush,
And soothing veil of words: ‘Hush, hush.’
I took the book in my both hands,
And felt its grip on me.
The stories of all times and lands,
And words: ‘Let’s flee, let’s flee.’
I opened slightly the first page,
And picked in over edge.
I saw a beautifully written line,
It said: ‘You’re mine, you’re mine.’
And thus the story has begun
Of journeys endless run.
When I would close my book and sigh,
It would reply: ‘Goodbye, goodbye.’
Then, day would have its steady way
Of moving things around,
But, in the night I’d stay up late,
Away from earthly ground.
The Book of Dreams with pages-wings,
In gloomy room of mine,
Would wash my face with wonder-winds,
And say: ‘It’s time, it’s time.’
‘Everything that is not offered to God - is taken by Satan’ (Elder Joseph Hesichast from the Holy Mountain.)
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