The beginning of your new world

It is impossible to see the most important thing
when it is in front of your nose.
Stacks of books and papers, you haven't needed for a long time,
cluttered your table.
All this rubbish blocks the light from the window.
It doesn't let anyone who still loves you look into your eyes.
Your world is narrowed, compressed by scholastic schemes.
You don't even notice that you completely forgot to breathe on a full chest.

Look up. Look! A butterfly is sitting on Mykola Zerov's volume.
Its wings barely flutter.
Come on, lad! Get up. Open the curtain. Open the window.
Release the butterfly. Follow him to the garden.
Just smell how nice the dew-soaked earth smells.
Touch the cherry leaves. Wrap its trunk with your palms.
Can you hear the juice dripping?
Can you hear your blood pulsing?
You are alive! Come back. Come back to life!

Go strait to the riverside.
The viburnum blooms there.
The wind plays with the sycamore there.
Approach the river. Take a handful of her water.
Wash your face.
Isn't it better to live here, not in a cell with only books?

That swing was made by your grandfather.
And the boat was dug out of willow by your father.
Do you see a pile of stones, bitter sand and lime?
Bring cement and start building something.
This is the beginning of your new world.

11.46. 26.03.2021
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© Copyright: Valentin Luchenko, 2021