My Path

  • Added:
    Sep 23, 2012
  • Article Views:
    1469
  • Word Count:
    519

I can hear the rain and the girls quietly talking about new dresses, parties; and the faces and the events from a few days ago, a few weeks ago and a few months ago are mentioned. Insomnia torments them, they say. Hamlet says: To sleep, perhaps to dream.

A lazy summer afternoon is stretching slowly like a foam ice cream, wool, woolen yarn, red soil, red caps, birds huddled under the eaves where there is no wind. It is disappearing like a fog under the sun rays, like empty words of those who talk nonsense, nothing and havoc. Every afternoon would like to be the brooch on the day`s lapel.

The afternoon is an unmerciful cry to prove to the evening that the day was meaningful, that it is worth remembering and mentioning. Sometimes, the afternoon hides its stupidity and desperation behind the rain. After lunch when you put your doubts and a twisted surface of your brain on the table of irony which resembles a sailor`s map and when you mark it with elevations from number one to number seven, you will realize the luxury of mercifulness towards passions and people that you have cherished affectionately and secretly for years, like unrequited first loves.

A multicolored globe with a ribbon that is placed in front of you is neither entertaining nor fun. The blade is on the winch and two skies are crucified at the moment when the chaos of your world and of the whole world is grinning cynically, smiling skeptically because it doesn`t believe that the riddle is hidden in its solution. However, morning comes and everything is forgotten. Then I see that my sadness was just a silly, silly dream. My path resembles relievo, it is steeper and filled with more obstacles in comparison with other people`s paths, but I don`t complain. I have hardly ever had opportunities to explain it and to express it.

People didn`t understand me and sometimes they used to hurt me by misunderstanding. While I was walking alone and determined, I used to come across the underbrushes of suspicion and the swamps of shallowness. I was a marmoreal wave that has been bounced of the rock a million times until it has become thin and weak and the rock has started to split, crack and make enough space for the wave to go on. My path is a part of my being and a part of my personality and it has become united with my physical and spiritual strengths. And when the path is the most troublesome it`s hard to abandon it, just as it`s hard to remove a part of your body.

I must move on, even when everything doesn`t fit in and things are not happening the way I want. And when certain obstacles and misfortunes seem difficult and insurmountable they are like that for a few moments, hours, days, years and decades. Gradually, I become accustomed to them and I become friends with them and I start loving them. God who is the creator of life and death has chosen my path and I am led onto the earthly and heavenly pathway.

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