Прохор Озорнин - На Крыльях Надежды : Поэзия. Избранное

Пока мой голос не затих,
Создам я этот важный стих,
Пускай печален будет он,
Пускай издаст безбожник стон,

Но должен я предупредить,
Чтоб вы не смели мир губить,
Поскольку в Мире Тонком вам
Закон воздаст всем по делам.

Давно вам это предсказали,
И информацию отдали,
Пророков много приходили -
Вы друг за другом их убили.

И с каждым днем ваш мир все хуже -
По уши в темной ныне луже,
И все ж надеетесь, что вам
Сойдет всем с рук подобный срам?!

Вам о Суде давно сказали,
Пророки Заповеди дали,
Но вы не слышали их глас,
Сожгли Божественный Наказ.

Закон, однако, вечно жив -
Но вы иллюзий-перспектив
Другим создали из ума ...
Но заберет таких чума.

Когда в Иной Мир путь направишь,
И тело в мире сем оставишь,
Тогда твой Дух идет на Суд -
Там дней Ревизии все ждут.

Его давно там ожидают -
И все надеются, гадают,
Пройдут они ли чрез Весы
Хоть близ граничной Полосы ...

И Дух там к Духу, к ряду ряд -
Они все в Очередь стоят,
Она почти что бесконечна ...
Не всякий жить Дух будет вечно,

Но всяк положит на Весы
Свои грехи, свои красы,
Свои дела за жизни все -
Все в первозданной их красе.

И горе Духу, коли зло
Вес больший в Чаше обрело,
И перевесило весь Свет -
Такому Духу жизни нет!

Каково же, представьте,
Им всем умирать,
Каково материалом
Для Душ новых стать?

И приходит когда
Этим Душам конец,
То безмерно скорбит
Их бессмертный Отец.

Что бы чувствовал ты,
Потерявший дитя?
Ведь творил тот Отец
Этих Душ из Себя.

Он частицы Себя
Разбросал по мирам,
И позволил расти
В Эволюции сам,

Дабы, споро пройдя
По духовным низам,
Каждый взмыть пожелал
Бы скорей к Небесам.

Но увы, все ж не каждый
Способен прийти
Сквозь кромешную Тьму
К Свету Духа в пути,

И столь многи не знают,
Что скоро их ждет,
Не желают топить
В своих Душах весь лед.

Ты слышишь колокола звон?
По вам всем, люди, звенит он.
Кто не желал себя менять -
Начать тех могут забирать.

А кто уходит в Тонкий Мир -
Осознает, что натворил,
Но только в тело вновь теперь
Им до Суда закрыта дверь.

Ты слышишь шум? Эге-ге-гей!
Несется мир быстрей, быстрей,
И скоро в квантовом скачке
У Бога будет на руке.

И Бог решит, что делать с ним ...
Убьем его иль сохраним
Сегодня выбором своим?!
Коль не услышат, не поймут -

Цивилизацию свернут,
Стихии чистить будут мир ...
Предупреждаем гласом лир.
Так восемь раз уже бывало ...

А время? Очень, очень мало!

The Earth is cradle for the men ...
But that is just the part of plan,
For it has yet another side -
The Earth is sleeping deep inside.

And with the Earth sleeps humankind ...
There is potential for mind
That was forsaken long ago,
The man preferred to lay it low.

That man preferred to fall asleep ...
It now, like newborn, breathes deep,
Yet knowing nothing of his kind,
There is little use for sleeping mind.

He has forgotten whom he was
And he has still so many foes,
Who hunt for him in own dreams ...
He's always victim - so it seems.

He may believe in thousand things,
To these beliefs he always clings,
But there is yet the other side -
He's sleeping deep, so deep inside.

There are so many forms of sleep ...
You'll have to make a quantum leap
To free yourself of dream's clutch,
All what’s at stake - it's just too much.

There are more than one way
To end the night, to bring the day,
To step past shade, becoming solar,
To soar high, to fly as stroller.

If you are victim - you shall suffer,
Your tortures will become all tougher,
And day will come, you faith'll be shaken -
And from that pain you'll awaken.

If you are stronger than the rest,
If heart still beats in own chest,
If heart is always full of fire -
Than your solution is desire.

Destroy your cage in own wake
And grow inside you what it take
To shape your heart and mind in one,
To dive in self, to dive for fun.

Awaken now, awaken, sleeper!
There is still time before your reaper
Will take you out of this life ...
Just throw away your fears, dive!

If own fire will be lit
And on the paper it will feed,
And for this guide in dire need ...
Than it is yours - and so be it.

I have been given flaming blade
To pierce night and fight with shade,
And it is glowing with that fire
The source of which is my desire.

It has seen war, it knows of peace,
It chopped heads, it burned grease,
And it executed swift death,
For some it's curse, for others bless.

It has severed diseased limbs,
It has exposed others’ sins,
It was a torch for ones in dark,
Cut out exit to those stuck.

It settled disputes in the world,
It used to touch the right heart's chord,
Its clang alone can make heart brave,
And it is lost for those who rave.

It is engulfed in the flame
And thus can make its wielder lame,
It brings uncommon sort of fame
Which clears heart and grants no shame.

Yes, I can feel its heat in hands ...
This blade has traveled many lands
And many battles it has seen,
Those armed with it destined to win.

It's a reflection of a Word,
Which always touches rightist chord
And purifies its victim's heart ...
Eternal justice, friend and guard.

I don't know why I feel I am
Once lived through all of this - and then
I have forgotten who I was,
Who were my friends, who were my foes,

How I was called, and how I died ...
This feeling does constantly bite,
But still my memory is mist ...
It's like I start with empty list.

And yet some sparks of former life
Feel very old the time I dive
Into reflection of myself -
And this makes squeeze my soul nerve.

I feel I once had many names ...
Are these but dreams, just madness games?
I might have gone completely mad,
But these feelings long have bred.

I worn them all, they were like clothes
For man with many names I was
And many faces I once had ...
I am, no doubt, truly mad.

How one can live the endless life
And pass through death ... and still survive?
And still in times remember that
Another own name he had?

They are all mine, I once were them,
All these persons in the pram,
Like were-man I always shift ...
Is it a curse, is it a gift?

Is there is one beyond them all
That is my only truly goal,
The one, who never had the name,
The Nameless One ... are we the same?

I will remember once them all
For this is only worthy goal ...
The time will come, I'll pass through flames
To be the Man Of Many Names.

It is the dream of my origin,
For in the dreams I am still virgin,
And still I'm fighting with my sleep,
But hesitate - that's why I weep.

My worthless dreams I must deny,
But still afraid to make the try,
For who am I now to decide
What dream is wrong, what dream is right?

My purest dream is that of bird -
It is the symbol of the world
Which always change and born anew,
This bird I am, like it I flew.

For like a phoenix I reborn ...
My wings may melt, my wings may worn,
But I'm constantly born anew,
I'm many-faced in others view.

I am restored in the fire,
The fire's cold, that fire's dire,
It forges one's wings to make him flyer ...
It is a grand sight to admire.

From former ego it deprives,
And, as its victim slowly dies,
His flesh begins to grow anew ...
And still survivors are so few.

I'm passing through this coldest hell,
My burning skin is all I smell,
My former past will once unfold ...
It is a strange sight to behold.

For I am one without name,
I've lost my past, rejected fame,
The Earth will never be my home ...
I will be free the time I'm gone.

All other worlds awaiting me ...
I will awake, I shall break free,
Inside myself I'm searching deeper -
Such is the fate of the Unsleeper.

No one can help me on my path,
I'm always self, I'm never "us",
Through divine hell I'm passing by
To forge the wings for final flight.

The time will come, I will reborn,
My former skin myself I'll torn,
Reborn anew, becoming flyer -
It's all the wish, it's one's desire.

What does one strife for, if not success?
Constantly pressured, each day in stress?

What do I care? Listen or not -
Poem's successful, still being hot.

For politician it's measured in voices,
And for musician it's all in the noises.

For the reporter - it's in sensations,
And for astronomer - in observations.

As for the priest - it's measured in souls,
And for each medic it's counted in bowels.

For common mystic it's in divinations.
What of the killer? In annihilations.

For simple writer it's in the novels,
For complex digger it's in the shovels.

For undertaker this one's in corpse,
For the oculist this one's in orbs.

It's in new places for endless strollers
And for all merchants all in the dollars.

And for the army it's in the wars ...
Now do you see where successful one goes?

And for the planet it's in the us.
Want be successful? See where this goes?

Or will prefer not to race for success,
Driving as madman, always in stress?

Spirit success now is being so rare ...
Poem's successful ... what do I care?