Reading Fairy Tales

I read fairy tales like dreams,
like visions or dreams. 
Some psychoanalysts of the past have written them down so that everyone can find their own clues when they ask about the meaning of their existence,
when it seems the futility of life is so unbearable.

I read hints: traces of water on the window glass, on the sand of the beach.  So many wonderful things are hidden in plain sight: in simple things, in banal conversations, in social media. 
You just need to see and understand that there are really no dead ends,
there is a way out of any impasse.

I read faces, I read the postures, gaits, smells, voices, portraits of the dead and missing.  I listen to their conversations, confessions, monologues-dialogues in trains and stagecoaches.

Nothing disappears into nothing.  Nothing can be born from nothing.  Everything that lived, in fact,
still exists here and there. 
Everything existing will be to the very end, if that end ever comes. 
It often seems to me that the universe is like an intertwining of circles,
of never fading oscillation.
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6.50. 04.03. 2021

© Valentin Luchenko