light [Theme] Page 3

And something changed: he became himself, and not part of the vague mass of people, he began to speak as if from himself and felt less confident. And Zimobor looked at him intently and affably - without a threat, but in such a way that a healthy man, old enough to be the father of this curly-haired guy, felt a desire to lower his eyes. From the brown, shining eyes of the young prince, entire generations of people, accustomed to rule, accustomed to looking at the world from above, from the back of a war horse, looked at him. Their world was wide and vast, and the elder, whose white light had always been closed by the flow of the Sezha - two or three transitions from beginning to end - suddenly became timid in front of this world, realizing for the first time its enormity. He vaguely knew that somewhere there were the Dnieper and Sozh, and this guy saw them and drank their water.

Every thing. Every place. Give each person your deepest respect. Thank you,

Every thing. Every place. Give each person your deepest respect. Thank you,

The brighter the light inside, the easier it is for us to survive everything outside. You should always believe in the best and love your life. We have only one life.

God, help me take a small step and not get stuck in fears. Teach me how not to stop seeing the light even where there is now impenetrable darkness. Give me strength, even in the most difficult moments, to never give up. God, help me not to hide tears of pain in the depths of my soul. Cry if you cry. And laugh when he laughs. Help me keep my heart open, despite all the hardships and trials. Help me just love. God, help me let go of despondency from my heart. See everything clearly and cleanly, accepting everything as it is. Help me find peace and harmony. Living in harmony with yourself and those around you, create and create only for the Good. Guide me, please, show me the way. And do not leave me on your paths that you have intended for me. With peace and love to you. Amen.

... hands... like the wings of a butterfly, their shadows with light movements strive towards the light... dancing on the wall... getting burned... going blind... the temptation to merge is irresistible... a couple more minutes and the light will go out... Thoughts will become clearer in the evening cloudiness of words... and stricter... just a couple of minutes... let's put them aside for an eternity of circling in a carefree dance of hands...

like holes in cheese exposed to light...

thanks to everyone who listens to me...

Our road winds and gets lost in the darkness. But we will find the light that will guide us forward.

You know, you give off such warmth... It’s as if you’ve exposed your face to the sun in winter. Thank you for being here.

Well, what can you write with a torch - well, maybe only Evgenia

The lightest is the gray matter.

In the shadow of the monitor, where games become our bunkers, we have forgotten that the real pain is not in the lost virtual battle, but in the lost opportunities to build our real story. The heart skips a beat because of what we could have had, but missed. And only a meeting with the shadow of the past can shed light on those sad pages that could have been written, but remained empty.

I remember well how dad came home in the evenings and talked about work. Every day. The conversation about work began at the door, continued over dinner, and ended in the parents’ bedroom when dad shouted: “Let’s turn off the lights!” - exactly at eight in the evening, because he needed to get enough sleep and gain strength to go to work the next day. A lot of work. Nothing but work.