Poem | Life is passing, not a field to cross...
Life is lived – not a field to cross, Life is lived – not a field to cross,
And what if it is like a desert,
Through which you go to unknown worlds,
Distant, like blurred watercolors…
It seems that youth has just blossomed
With an orange flash of morning…
And here the years weave feather grass
And break off the tumbleweed…
Suddenly a strong wind picked you up
And carried you to the far-sighted steppes…
Where traces are quickly swept away,
Like a strange, unlived grief…
And then there is temptation, like a cunning snake,
That approached Jesus in the desert.
Now it crawls up to your feet,
To inflict a deadly bite.
And you are alone, covered in sand,
Without a drop of life-giving hope.
The same, the same all around:
Sands and sun, sun and dry lands…
The best dreams have become a mirage,
Clouds are gathered in the height.
And danger often guards,
And happiness is only in the form of a ghost.
To change something is to go against the wind,
Which will fill your eyes with sand.
This world will not give you a drop of water,
When you want to drink the truth.
Remember, the people of Israel wandered
For years without hope in the desert
But they kept complaining about their God,
That He did not send them His mercy.
Is it the Lord's fault,
That people wanted idols made of gold,
That the manna from heaven became tasteless,
That they cared not for the soul, but for the body...
Isn't that how it is in life today:
Colorful paints decorate on the outside,
And inside - dark and empty -
Fate broken into pieces of regret...
On this, as they say, they put a cross:
Born, lived, it's time to die...
But the Son of God was not resurrected for that,
To fill a grave over a person!
He gave life! He resurrected the soul!
Rivers of living water flowed!..
You are not a stranger to God, but a native son,
With the Father in love united forever.
When you walk through the desert,
Then do not be afraid of the burning touch of thirst:
Jesus left footprints in the sand,
So that you may drink of living water from them.
Life is lived - not a field to cross.
But in this endless field
You must leave footprints
Of hope, faith and eternal love.