Van Gogh’s Rainbow Reflection.Dying…

Slow steps were bringing a man to the top of this endless staircase…

The flaps of a grey dirty cloak slid along black stones scaring away alarmed mice…

He had something to say and something to think about during this coming wonderful night…

The deaf moaning of the booming wind was reachable from behind high stones covered in green mould after each step he took…

A thousand-year sigh and regret were hidden inside these stones which turned black from sweat and blood…

There was always enough time for them to die…

Those who are alive like to stand beside a coffin and throw a handful of brown soil – tired of ashes and blood — into a grave…

A wish to die was growing to please inventive human eyes…

And even now one could smell fires burning somewhere near…

As though the hands of those who were burning in these fires were pulling him down…

With every step he made it seemed that the tower was rocking more and more, and the feet were stepping harder and harder…

It seemed like the angels in the sky have stopped looking at the agony of human existence a long time ago…

Dressed in sacred clothes the walking evil was spreading the word of God while stepping on a baby’s throat…

Fields of wheat were taking ashes of those who died and giving birth to a heavy ear of golden seeds in return to make up for the future deaths…

Human gods wished to be worshipped for people would not die once they were born…

The blood-stained veil of the fog kept shutting his eyes when making a further step to the top of this endless strange staircase…

The stair-well was making him feel dizzy and his grey hair was waving from under his dirty green hood…

His pace was becoming heavier and his cross was cutting into his neck worn out from age-old patience…

Nightmares were beginning to pursue him with infernal flame where his soul seemed to smoulder…

Breathing heavily the stranger touched a rough stone on this never-ending wall and when he shut his eyes the stranger saw her green eyes and that fluffy Irish hair…

He loved her. He enjoyed her body and her white face without end when talking to her for a long time after she was gone…

Her understanding calling gaze looking from the past warmed him up again. And having his wet eyes open he thanked the Creator for calling such fortune on him once again…

Faith which he gained at the start of his journey did not let him die among his likes…

Her love has relieved his sufferings after this faith died…

His lackluster eyes plunged into the shadow of the arrived millennium….

 

 

Автор: magsaund

Образование высшее, экономист. Живу осмысленно, имею привычку думать самостоятельно, т.к. всегда учусь чему то и имею свое мнение, и понимаю, что каждый несет свою ношу. Если ноша бросается, начинаются плохие привычки.

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