Мурашкин Михаил Георгиевич : другие произведения.

Sky

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  • Аннотация:
    This book tells about the Sky as a hazard. The writings composing this edition reflect the intention of an author to prevent the advancing hazardous situation in the future.

MYKHAILO MURASHKIN

0x01 graphic

SKY

  

MYKHAILO MURASHKIN

SKY

DNIPROPETROVSK

"INNOVACIYA"

2014

  
   УДК 081/082
   ББК 94; я44
   М91
  

TEXT. This writing is being published:

   Мурашкiн М.Г. Записи 2007 року - Днiпропетровськ: СIЧ, 2010 (ISBN 978-966-511-374-7); Мурашкин М.Г. Записи 2011 года. - Днiпропетровськ: СIЧ, 2012 (ISBN 978-966-511-397-6).
  
  
  
   Мурашкiн М.Г.
   М91 Sky. - Днiпропетровськ: "Iнновацiя", 2014. - 48 с.
  
   ISBN 978-966-8676-35-8
  
   This book tells about the Sky as a hazard. The writings composing this edition reflect the intention of an author to prevent the advancing hazardous situation in the future.
  

УДК 081/082

ББК 94; я44

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   ISBN 978-966-8676-35-8 No Мурашкiн М.Г., 2014
   No MYKHAILO MURASHKIN, 2014
  
  

2007.

  
   ...
   ...
   Sky! O night Sky of stars! People are under your glass bell!
   O blue Sky full of sunshine! But the story is the same. The people stay where they have been in the same location regarding You.
   What is the ancient ocean glorified by Comte de LautrИamont? Nothing, compared with Your mysterious force. O sky! You can easily turn this oceanic spaciousness into dry, rift the Earth with Your comets and splatter into the drops these unattainable depths of water, as they at the first sight seem to be.
   Sky! You are rectoral.
   What is Man? Little creature. He is under Your light blueness of day and navy blue colour of night like an ant carrying the crumbs of food into its home. Carrying and feeling happy about each minute of its being.
   O Sky! I am short without You!
   But it will never be sufficiently much of You.
   You are the threat for me. So magnificent with Your night stars. They are as dross scattered on your blueness. And the Moon aside, this amazing creation, light, clear and of the crescent roll shape. This resemblance is not accidental. Certainly, Man cannot live by bread alone and being without a small crescent roll he will not die. Man lives by bread as well. Sky, what are You giving to this Man? Only the threat. Bread is earned by the sweat of his brow on the fields to provide living in some kind of way. But You, Sky, treats not only with the torrential rains. The secrets are opened. You are going to reduce the Earth to ashes, the one which is the feeder of Man. It means, You are going to destroy Man himself.
   O Sky! We are here like ants building our tiny wealth.
   ...
   ...
   Sky!
   And I! And I!
   I - such a miserable worm. I am crawling. I am digging in the ground. I would fly up, fly up ... . I would hover, hover ... .
   But nevertheless I will land, peck the greenery to my heart's content. I - such a miserable worm.
   ...
   ...
   Sky, Sky, Sky. You are native for me. How many years have we been watching into the eyes of each other? My songs are about the same: You so marvelous, Sky! Divine You are in a nasty weather. Look, the clouds are fantastically moving.
   During the past time, something has happened within me, true. Sometimes I consider, "What do the clouds promise to me?" And what it is the thing they are fantastically moving? It is I who granted them with it! Otherwise - they are nothing special. Dull, grey, they are dragging themselves. They are just about to swallow me. I saw white ponies, castles, eyes ... saw a lot in them; delighting myself at times ... In order not to see the threat?
   So silly I am, indeed.
   Repose, I need.
   I have fully lost my heart.
   Spiritualize myself again ...
   In order to size the treat, stop the run of the clouds...
   Stop everything in this World. Not for myself!
   For the others!
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Ah, Sky, Sky. Is it You who provides for me?
   If I have not taken all by myself, the depth will disjoint me. The depth of Yours, Sky, with blue infinite spaciousness. That is why I am trying. I am ready to rant and rave. The tiredness happened to come unexpectedly ... . No, not happened, though. The tiredness comes with labour, as much as the efforts infinite. Everything is against you, O Sky, against your blue spaciousness; to compress, to make closer in order to conquer at least the small part of that infinite blue, going there, going ...
   So that; as the tiredness comes, I stop fighting. And it seems I am losing time. Because you are indefatigable, Sky. The rest You won't tolerate. In no time, you will swallow forever. And You will leave nothing of the world of my culture, that has been cultivated with zeal on the planet for thousands of years. What a concern of Yours about the traditions? Accidentally, You, in fact breathing. Does this give hope? In despair, throws down! Alone, I am alone. And that is!
   ...
   ...
   Sky! What kind You are! Everything is coming from You. And nothing from me. Just stagnation. Has I run out creatively? Or no way out for the affairs? I am sick of people. Boundaries, everybody puts boundaries. Don't go there, never. Don't go here, forbidden. All take care of themselves. They do not look up at Sky, never. I also take care of what to wear in winter, though. Sky did seethe for everyone. Sends the frost to us. In equal part for each. Everything for everyone. Think on your own of how to survive.
   Sky! Ah, Sky, Sky! Man should only think. You store infinite miracles. But what will Man have? What? He takes care only of daily life. He loses himself in the fuss of days. True, in the different way then ... he would lose forever, forever. And about miracles? They will be. The different way of looking should be at the mountains, the sea, Sky, to look intently up at the spaciousness and feel the limitlessness of yourself in this large world.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! That is Sky! That is Sky!
   The leaves are dancing in the trees. That is Sky who rants and raves.
   There will be no leaves there soon. Autumn is coming in full. Everything is seething in changes. Everything is sent down from Sky. To whom? To trees and people, to living beings who are constantly intending to survive and live. That is the reason why joy is created at times to forget about the daily life, to fall and be backward, isn't it?
   In order to raise a little bit over this crazy world.
   O Sky! It is You who creates this.
   The leaves are dancing in the trees. They are about to be gone with the winds. And how are we in this world? Sky does not think about it at all.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Something will happen to me and I will look up at Sky again...
   Well, where can I look at? As the ground is slipping under my feet.
   Around one or two thousand years more like this...
   What will happen to me, to the Earth?
   In the brotherhood of people we will build the rockets and fly.
   What may come, we shall see.
   We need to save ourselves. Save.
   Something will happen to me and I will look up at the same Sky.
   ...
   ...
   Sky, burning and dancing.
   Sky, standing and keeping silent.
   Everything is in Him - spaciousness and bliss.
   Sky: fire, water ...
   I am raising my happiness to that Heaven and Light.
   No, the Forces themselves are doing this triumphing!
   I and not I! What is going to be?
   There will be I there; and Sky.
   No!
   There will be only Sky there. And I will be dissolved in Darkness.
   That is not the deal to please us all.
   We let belly drop.
   For myself sake, and for he sake of the children we are needling Sky, needling.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Ah, Sky, Sky! What have You prepared for me?
   You will open wide Your jaws one day. And I will not exist anymore then, not exist on the earth. That I have been fighting so immensely is little nothings and accidental. Accidentalness will finish that life. Accidentalness will accidentally come.
   I have opened your secret, Sky! That is the sort of Yours, that is the sort! Not easier for me, true, not easier. I see the children playing. Are you going to be swallowing them as well? Are you going to take them away to nowhere as well?
   Sky! Ah, Sky, Sky! What have prepared? What?
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Will you stop some day? Will you make me free for the flight?
   However, I am not even dreaming of. I myself am breaking through to the freedom. Through You, I am breaking my way.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! O Sky, Sky!
   I am being got with You.
   You are so seething in me!
   You are so singing in me!
   And I have to squeeze out everything
   what is seething in me.
   And I have to squeeze out everything what is singing in me.
   Sky! O Sky, Sky! I am being got with You.
   As shapka you are hanging over me...
   You are inciting me!
   And that is why my songs are only about You, O Sky!
   And that is why my bliss is only for You, You.
   And so, well, what would I do?
   If You disappeared...
   I would hang everything on the earth.
   And hang myself soon.
   No more strengths to last.
   The is the problem, problem.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! O Sky, Sky!
   We reflect time - with our thoughts, feelings, knowledge; we know You, O Sky; know by very small. What are we able to, we, people? To brawl, fire up, then. That is why our knowledge as far as the nearest obstacle.
   We reflect time - our knowledge is little.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Ah Sky, Sky!
   You are my native, native.
   How to be without you? No way!
   Without you - I am nothing!
   It is You who are feeding me.
   The nest question is how long?
   I have to entertain myself.
   Otherwise, I shall become as You are: the elements.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Here is Woman. She is passing with her hips. And within her, there exists Your nature - to replicate. Replication! The best way for this is in certain conditions. Comfort in home? Yes. A comfortable burrow! What can be better?
   People made burrows for themselves. As massive as fortresses with on-door speakerphones. So temporary these burrows!
   But Woman possesses inexhaustible nature for replication even on the ruins. This is Your nature, O Sky.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. People are swarming in the cities and towns. They are already swarming all over the world. They are rebuilding the world surrounding them. The people of the Earth are going to make their way through cosmic passes. And what do they have to do? Without filling their stomachs and expanding further, they will just disappear. Because You are pressing, Sky. You are motivating their aims to provide energy for their existence, for waking up early in the morning and striving firstly for gulping green plants, which collect chlorophyll within themselves with the help of the solar energy. Then, having satiated themselves with this energy, people start their expanding movements into the space because foreseeing the problems with the environment, they want to prevent undesirable situations with receiving energy for both themselves and for their growing little descendants, who do not know first all the situation, and then start to understand what the life gives and what ruins it.
   You ruin the life, Sky. As You give birth to it, You digest it. So a heartless being. I even cannot say You are a being. Creature! I even cannot say fully heartless. You give the birth; give the chance ..., though. I even cannot say anything essential about You, O Sky! Beast? Not a beast! Angel? Not an angel! Yes! Driving-into-vagueness. And this is the very chance for Man to turn to himself, to his essential forces, if they, of course, exist.
   ........................................................................
   And why does Man abuse those who are like him? Miserable creature! Why does he commit injustice? Only for this ill-fated energy, which he wants to take away for himself from those who are like him. There is the sun! Take as much of it as you want while it is shining. And one day it will stop shining. And imagine how would grow the embittered expressions on the faces of the creatures called Homo sapiens.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! I curse You. I do not know for what. Maybe for impossibility for me to attain this perfection. Perhaps only for minutes, during the time of special states of consciousness.
   Really, scarcely attain such a power, force, might, energy. All the energy is coming from You, Sky!
   My business is to eat green plants, in which You align the part of You might in order to convert it into inventions of various machines, tractors and rocket engines, making their ways through Your spaces, O Sky, and having the hope to open the secret of Your all-powerful nature in order to become prime instead of You. Even if Your all-powerful energy is temporary, if it scatter in Your own spaciousness and die, all the same, in guessing the mystery of Your nature is a hope to manage the engendering of such a state of affairs, due to which all the energy comes in full and seen in the milliards of suns, in the milliards of stars.
   Here they are in front of me in the night Sky.
   They, certainly, die before my eyes, scattering their light into the infiniteness of the spaces. But they had the birth, centering of these light energies. How have You done this, Sky? My incarnations are infinite. Though, for the solution we need to set into motion all the forces of my mind, all the might of thinking of all the Earthy mankind, that who is concerned about idle living the time, rattling the sabres in the battle fields, clinking the glasses in restaurants, sobbing in a depressed state after masturbating because with such pleasure there will no be conception and birth of new young thinkers to renew the hopes for opening the mysteries of the Universe. Brainless creature - Man with his entertainments and likings. Should he compete with You, O Sky, should curse you? Curse yourself, Man. Look, here is the reason why.
   Sky! I curse You. And I know the reason why! And repent it at once. Striking against the wall with my head in hysterics. I am alone! And this means I am nothing. Where are people? In the idleness of wars, restaurant leisure, masturbating seedlessly.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! I am leprous, it means speared, bewitched by You. I have not speculations about the other. Only about Your light blueness. Only about Your navy blueness. Only about Your grey colour in a nasty day. Only about You. And what else could it be about? Everything is derived from You. From You - I. From You - all my children, all my friends, all the lovers of my wife. You are creating everything in such a way. In order to make me not to be recognized in my children, in my kinship.
   Be cursed, Sky. You say it seems that all the outrages are made by people. But this is Your tenet: if only to make. You make wars, prostitution, gluttony, debauchery and masturbation. Not serious attitude to the life should be serious. And what about You? Madness, degenerating idleness. Who will name this as cleaver? Only a vicious man.
   Sky, You are cursed. You created a cursed man. However, You are no way. Something moral cannot be applied with You.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! We are here on the Earth as the horde of ants hanging about and trying. We look up only sometimes at You, Sky. We do not have the eyes enough to seize You, Sky. We even set the telescopes on the Earth's orbit to watch into Your depths, Sky. Are watching. But no ends seen. How unbounded You are, Sky!
   We came from the Earth. Then, we put the heads down and dig in daily routine, rummaging for the opportunity to survive. Only sometimes throw back our head with the hope to master the situation and overcoming Earth's gravity to rein in large spaciousness. But what are the distances for us to know in order to tell to ourselves that we are something? Has Man learnt these distances by measuring the ways to the nearest galaxies? It is doubtful whether. And maybe has learnt, because there is nothing further, even the void. Nonexistence. Absolutely nothing! In this case, we know something, cluing the available galaxies; and always the available.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! I am tearing myself from You and moving the people in the depth in order to give them the covenant for centuries to come, it will last to the end of time, both the mankind's time and Your, Sky.
   Love each other and hate each other, people (loving is not only for perceiving the God), and do various things for the life to continue and for the mankind to continue.
   Love and hate Sky, with all of your force, depending upon how agreeable is He, how much He contradicts your desire to firm and expand the mankind's life.
   And what about the God! The God comes. And you will soar being inspired for until a certain time.
   Love! When there is a reason, hate controlling yourself, do not lose the sacred aim - the life of the mankind.
   You, maybe do not like these speculations, O Sky. Or rather You are beyond all this. You will involve all of us.
   ...
   ...
   Aqueous spaces. And the bridge - a thin thread. All this is Yours, Sky! The only thing is the construction of the threads made by the Man's liberty, which has been created by You, Sky. For Your own perdition?
   Man is little and his bridges are thin, though.
   ...
   ...
   O Sky! The roaring of Woman as the full-of-love cry of a doe for her child. The other kinds of human's love are farce, deserving contempt. And this has been going on during the whole History of Mankind. And You know this, O Sky. All the air and space are impregnated with it. Being out of knowledge is impossible for this. But Man, this brainless creature, forgets about it.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. He is dancing endlessly inside me. Because He is everywhere. And I have no place to escape from Him. And He never disappears. He - everlasting presence. I - at Him. I would not have created. I would not have thought up. He is always here with His ingenuousness. Am I going shopping? Here He is. Peeling potatoes in the kitchen. He is also near with His boundlessness at me. No. No. I am at Him. Even if it is vice-versa. What is the difference? Here is the fact of presence. So we live. Sometimes, You disappear, Sky. I plug into the fuss, routine. And You actually vanish. So I am, within myself. I am calculating, measuring and gaining something. What exactly? Why? I again, I come for the answer to You, Sky. You are the answer for everything. You blaze with Your comets. Spread Your fire tails. And what is the sense of those calculations and gaining? Can person gain much? Small in body. O Sky!
   ...
   ...
   Sky! I am sometimes astonished at Your unconcern. You gave the birth to the mountains and the sea, human spirit and multitude of amusing gods. And what is now? Are You acting as if you are striving to rub everything away from the face of the Earth? Where is the logic of your deeds? Or are You sure that You can give the birth to everything again and do it endless number of times? And what about Your own feature that everything in Your world is to be born and to rise one time and once? What about this? Hey! You don't know! You show us that Your hot Sun regularly rise every morning, on the Sky and lie down in soft green grass every evening for immersing into it and disappearing. But this regularity is seen and temporary. Every morning, the Sun rises but it is a little bit different. Every evening, the Sun lies on the new greenery of the grass but not so hot as it was before. And this fact is found by the researching genius of Man. He foresees the final life of the Sun, its fading. And - disappearing of any life.
   And what is then, O Sky? You think that all this can be reborn again? Though, nothing is what You are thinking about. Brainless creation! Man should think instead of You. How to preserve the life?! How to survive? What concern do You have? To give birth and to destroy. Really, brainless creation. Rage comes over me about You, O Sky! Rage comes over because of love for little, helpless, unprotected. For any nonentity. For Man. For small folks with their unique and dainty ornaments, inimitable culture, which is intended for scattering not only by Sky but also by nations bigger in quantity, intended for being pressed with a big foot of force. They are taught very well by You, O Sky.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! How little I am!
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. What should I do? I who is a little man and my life is short, while I have planned to do so many things in order to equal in some way with you, O Sky. But how could I equal with You if by looking into Your depth, Sky, we cannot even approximately feel about for your limits? How do You assess Your capabilities? They are infinitesimal if we look at Your unbounded spaces. And also a small number of years, given for existence on the Earth. Very small. A hundred. Well, a hundred and twenty years - a unique maximum. Every year has three hundred and sixty five days. And a hundred and twenty years. You can calculate.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. Rage comes over me time by time. You have been hanging over us for centuries. Immortal! And even the turtles win the race of the quantity of years to live. I even do not mention the trees. Some of them can live up to four thousand years. Human's one hundred is nothing against their four thousand. However, one hundred is also rarity among people. Not so often Man approaches this age border
   ...
   ...
   Sky. I have noticed many interesting things. I will bring this knowledge into the grave. Everything is not for being told. Everything is not to be transferred. Well, are they essential, these interesting things, for You, Sky, who are so boundless?
   ...
   ...
   Sky. When You finish your existence, we, the people of the Earth, would have finished our pass in the Universe and disappeared having been converted into nonexistence long before You. But it seems not to be soon. You are just expanding the flashings of Your stars, Sky, aren't You. Though, if you have been finishing them, nevertheless, we would be searching and searching for objectivity in order to hinder Your movements. In any case, they do not suit us because they contradict the stability of our homeostasis, which accidentally appeared and have been existing, o Sky, have been existing until now.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. I know You. You are unpredictable. Suddenly You rustle with rain. And no place for a shelter. Getting wet all through. Then, sun... And this for an endless number of times. Continuous changes. In Sahara, surely, continuous heat. Without changes. But there are different periods of changes, in Sahara. You, Sky, are definitely changeable. No matter that there exists Your visible constancy of the night picture of stars, which is one and the same at the first sight. But it is just for the first sight. Watching through the telescopes, we see the births, strikes and deaths of huge galaxies. After these observations, think about the own frail and soft body, understand its feebleness to gain the final victory over the Cosmos and its elements.
   O Human! O Sky! Are they together? I doubt whether. Do they confront? I don' t think so. However, I don't think in the different way. I am dizzy with it. The scope is too hard for me to chew. Cosmos! Human! There is an infinity inside there; and here - in the depths of inside. And without ends. He who withstands this dizziness will be saved.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Everybody is competing with everyone. One is against the others. America is a great country. No matter how Russian nazis and chauvinists fling mud at it, it will remain to be such even in its pathology. In its pathology it equals the Muslim World but with the opposite sign. It has all the gods equal. It embraces all. Though, the Jews with their God are trying to slip out away from its embrace. Reading Torah, the Jew is laughing at the whole humankind. He created the God of alive but not that of dead. But nobody understood this. And all are rambling in the dark. Except Jesus Christ who slightly opened this mystery for all. For this, the Jews trampled their fellow just in time. America is a great country. It ranks all the gods equal, reducing the flame of nazism and chauvinism from the Jews with their Gods: Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; reducing the flame of nazism and chauvinism from the Russians with their inheriting Byzantium of Jesus Christ. America is a great country. China with its multitude, biomass is competing with it.
   Yes, yes, Sky! We are taking about that competition You have arranged. The humankind has not been developed yet for uniting and cooperation. That is why, You, Sky are wielding power infinitely. Being united, people are able and will have managed to oppose You with something, Sky! But while humankind is at intestine war, You, Sky, are wielding power undividedly. And You will be wielding power ever and ever. However, maybe not so undividedly if people find the way of mutual understanding. But now such a tendency is not noticed. For this, there is no hope for the time being. Brainless creatures.
   ...
   ...
   Everything suddenly draws to the open spaciousness.
   Sky! It is You who are telling. With the voice of thunders and a wave; about the things in existence, these things, You are saying all the time. The wave may not come, though. It will change into the open spaciousness. But thunders; but thunders are flying with threat over the humankind.
   Even if in the depths of space we have spread our heart. Threats, threats are catching up with us in full even there. Because Sky is everywhere in the spaciousness. It is as shadows following us. And we, grey-winged birds, are trying to escape from them. What are we, if Sky is an adversity? What am I if Sky is an adversity? O Sky! O Sky! O Sky! On my knees I am creeping on You. I am imploring not to touch at least the children. I am imploring, still imploring and imploring. But as for myself, I all have secretly conceived how to chain, deceive, subdue the part of this spaciousness by placing the children in it there.
   Sky, do You feel? Do You feel? I am advancing against You. To gain time, I need, to find something again.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. I at time think what I am in this world, and at time I do not think at all having changed into You, O Sky. Having changed into oceanic waves, into a seagull flying over them, into clouds moving over the bird, into the sun shining over the clouds, into the spaciousness embracing the sun, the clouds as well as the seagull over the waves and the waves themselves. At that time I am moving thoughtlessly. Oh, better would not move. Because the others accept him who is moving thoughtlessly as a mad one. But I am moving in balance. In balance along with the sun movements, in balance along with the cloud movements, in balance along with wing beats of the bird, in balance along with wave surge. I am changing into them.
   O Sky! I know You.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Here I am. I am standing in front of my own self. In front of the world, opening myself to it. In front of You, o Sky! What am I? What are my children! Just one movement - and they do not exist! How powerful You are, o Sky! Blind force? Blind! Or You could watch closer which from my children is outstanding. In order not to destroy all without exceptions with Your elements. Sky, You are obviously the blind force! Your power is thoughtless. In this is Your bad luck. With this You are mortal. You can come to the state of non-existence and disappear, changing into nothing. But what is Your concern about it? Nothing. It is I who have a chance for immortality as a being with mind. It is I who is taking care of myself and caring for the problem of a real immortality besides the states of the soul when the death is impossible. Impossibility of the death is also just the chance for immortality. But You do not possess this, o Sky! But You are all-powerful! In this is Your charm.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. My words about You will be forbidden; forbidden will be also my books about You, o Sky. Because I often curse You, Sky, I curse the life which is wasting itself as You does, Sky, is wasting the warmth of You spaciousness never to return.
   Curse You, Sky, only in my own curses. It is my attitude to things. And I absolutely do not want to pretend. I tell what comes to my head as a drunker does.
   My writings, maybe, will be forbidden. But this is temporary. People will find mine, de novo and over again. Because I did not want evil for them. On the contrary, I directed them to the good. The illustration for this is me who is giving himself to people in whole without any lucre, taking nothing in exchange. And opening to people the real face of the God...
   And my curses are told figuratively, evoking. And You know this, Sky; and even if You do not know all this, You are sparkling gifted by my own way of thinking. Because all this is just speaking in a figurative way... That is why it gives the relief to the soul, the relief from the truths, from a great truth of the life. Because the verities are so hard that no suffering soul can bear them. Verity about You, Sky, is heavier than any iron plates. That is why the relief and the feeling of freedom do not come.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. You are giving the hopes. Why it is so, I do not know. Seemingly, this is something mysterious, needing decoding.
   Maybe, it is because I have been tempted by many things? People ask, "But what is the connection with it?"
   I answer and repeat: this is something mysterious. Being tempted, I was captive to sin. I have a lot of them. But, glory to God, they are petty and done due to the lack of willpower. My sins are not those which cause my conscience to gnaw and nag me ... But the time, the time, I feel it has been wasted because as I was led by the temptation I did not realize in full all my originality against You, o Sky! You give the hope because the temptations fall down when I understand Your threats. If I had not been led by the temptation and realized in full my original and very rich nature, You, the Sky, would have jumped as if stung.You would not have been able to threat the humankind. I would have chain You with my projects in a way to make You motionless and silent.
   I am whispering all this in private, in order to prevent, God forbid, You from hearing this, Sky! I am weak-willed in many way; temptations and idleness took possession of me. In many ways, I have wasted and squandered myself into trifles. Now, I cannot gather strengths and restore the passed-away opportunities, which I had. That is why I am telling against You, Sky, in private, in a low whispering voice; in order to prevent, God forbid, You from hearing this, Sky. From Your getting angry. Because I feel pity for my human generation, whom You are able to rub off from the surface of the Earth in a wink of an eye. I am keeping silent. Though, I have nothing to say. In temptations and idleness, I have lost a lot. A lot? Neither a lot nor little, the only most important thing has been lost - time! It was given to me to be in my disposal together with the document witnessing my legal adulthood, with which I received responsibility for every my deed. And I started passing my way swaying from side to side, being led by the temptations starting from accepting the influence of window shops, which I encountered on my way, and coming to unreasonable intimacy after which a woman had an opportunity to be not pregnant, had opportunity not to conceive the child and found my empty idleness as a proper way.
   Now, I am repenting, and atone for my sins but not by prayers, repentance in priests' presence, or buying indulgences to remove sinfulness and make it grow intensively afterwards. No, Sky! I remove my sinfulness easily by avoiding the mistakes that I have made to be committed again. So that I could at least somehow reach You, o Sky! To chain Your nature with my projects. That is to impose my will, my nature.
   What nature, though? Time and strengths have been wasted. Maybe, my children will be able to do something with You, Sky?! Though, looking at me, they have swallowed the part of the depraved and hidden it in the unconscious level of their souls. And how it is possible to bear it! I am in front of them explaining about myself, about my unhappy lot of the young street boy.
   But there is hope that in the nearest future You will carry away our humankind from the surface of the Earth. Hope springs are eternal in the human breast, though. We are on our way of rectifying the mistakes. So, watch out, o Sky!
   ...
   ...
   Sky. I am so excited, so excited at time, as I am watching into Your depths. What will be with all of us? The future is so vague. It is blurring at my watching. Nothing can be single out anything. Everything is passing to the somewhere, somewhere. Sink. What will remain? My artlessness and originality. And desire to live. But this is too little for being sure in something.
   Or rather my head is spinning. The sky is overhanging as It has been overhanging since one thousand, two, three, four thousand years ago. For the period of two thousand years, we, of course, have done a great deal of thinking. Have grown up. Though, the idleness strike through our heads at time, and we forget about responsibility for us in the future. O Sky. We do wrong.
   And if You arrange the end of the world, You will be definitely right. O Sky.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. We, the people, are hostages taken by You. At any minute, You are able to finish the existence of all of us; to ruin the thousands of years spent in the efforts for science development, truth searching for the sake of an arrangement type.
   You are hanging over us as the Damocles' sword, Sky. We are under Your glass bell. Forgetting about this, we are becoming criminals, stopping our arrangements which assist in opposing You, Sky. The criminal has only his own interests.
   You, Sky, are the criminal. You exist only for this. And we do not have the different one, but You.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. I know I am mortal. And do You know that You will crumble, o Sky, in a certain amount of time, then? Firstly to quanta, and then disappear at all. Don't know? How could You know?! Quanta are in Your base, though. To speak more precisely - void, which will be left after them. One should stop this process!
   O Sky, Sky. I would feel sorry for You. But eventually I have to feel sorry for myself. As I know my path in the Universe. Unless to save my children from the impending catastrophes. Sent by You, o Sky!
   At this, I have decided once to take some actions. Taoist way of hoping - is just a moment of insight gaining of your own self.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. I am so lonely. Have nobody to speak with. All the people are out of their senses. Only I direct the mind to You, o Sky. The others have something confusing in their heads. They are trapped in the nets of the own thoughts. Make searching there. Scoop out something. And find comfort in it staying within themselves. They are not able to break through free to the open spaciousness, to You, Sky. They have closed themselves in the own self, in particulars. Going over these particulars in circles as if counting prayer beads. O Sky! So, hopeless cases they are. But there are many hopeless cases. True? Alcoholics. Narcomaniacs. Gamblers - those who play the roulette or cards. Without these, the chances to enchant You, Sky, are little. Just because the people are less. They are knocked down. But what to do? That is the life. We have to use what we have. If only be equal with You, o Sky. Utopianly? But the time is moving.
   ...
   ...
   O Sky. I know all by heart. And repeat myself in my dithyrambs about You. And I will repeat myself many times. Do not grumble, my reader, when I am standing by the sea and discoursing into the light blue height; holding up my head, I am discoursing to You, to You. Only from time to time, by instinct my Adam's apple rises when I swallow saliva, being profusely discharged in the state of ecstasies of the standstill evidencing my merge with You, Sky. My long hair having become greasy from a long parting with water and having turned into lashes, which are flying to the parts of the world and furiously beat me against my face. But I do not notice this, I do not feel it at all. The flash of endorphins, which are being produced by my body and running to all its places, make my essence special. It soars, spiritualizes and flies dissolved into all the sides of the spaciousness, o Sky. At this time I feel impossibility of death. At this time I am becoming You, Sky.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. I love You. Do not know why ... Maybe, because You can do everything. Developing and transforming in time, You, can make the most impossible things. Immortality? As you please! Immortal bodies? As well, as you please! And what else, what else does the person need? Maybe nothing else is required. The rest is possessed even if it is not. There is no only the immortality of the body, with which I can perceive endlessly festive light blue air of Yours, Sky. So, let it be for me possible! Aha! Maybe just a little bit later. Because You are, no offence meant, Sky, You are just a blind force, not more. Force! But what a force! You are all powerful! You are like a Judaic God. These two are equal. You, of course, would not stand such a compression. But do not go out your temper. I am keeping silent. I know You are able to wipe off me and all my people, all my generations in under a second. I am keeping silent. I am keeping silent. Even if You are a blind force. Ha-ha ...
   O Sky! I am admiring You. Blind force. But what a force! The most, the most ...
   O Sky. I am being consumed with love to You.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. You are so luxuriant! To be bathing in You is a real pleasure. To be bathing in You is as if in the ocean waves. Though, these waters are also You.
   I am afforded the honour of bathing in crystal-clear, pure waters of Yours. Standing on the rocks I see many meters in deep through the mighty water mass, see the seabed. I am jumping into the water, in this clear crystal. Bliss. Life. Health, eventually health, health, which we need for the new and new accomplishments.
   I am afforded the honour of being absorbed with the clearness of the pure water. What will be left after me? I am terrified to think. I have seen many times how black fuel oil is poring in the crystal-clear ocean waters. What will be then with the human.
   ...
   ...
   Sky, You are time to time so clear and light, in a transparent haze, and I am inspired to live, live.
   But it sometimes so clouded with thunderstorm clouds that I tell to myself, "It is the end for everything, the end for everyone".
   Really, what would be with us if You start storming? We are so little, though. Even if we conquer the near space, take possession over the nearest spaciousness, chain Your Chaos with our structures and lay accurate courses for space flights, nevertheless our rocket technology will always be nothing if compared against Your endless depths, which are threatening with their black holes striving to swallow and grind all our efforts of intergalactic stage and even more of interplanetary civilization. What next, what next?
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. You are so dark. My voice in You - as if in the void. My aspirations - nothing for You. Not a greeting from You.
   Yes, yes. You are not alive. I am lonely. My family and friends do not hear me either. They also have changed into the Sky, senseless blocks. As for You, I can forgive, You, Sky. But as for them - I cannot. Forgiveness to all is just a shocking paradox in order to cut the ground from under our feet, for Human to regain consciousness, to penetrate. But not more. After coming to ourselves, all the same we have to watch into You, Sky.
   Yes, I am lonely. But I am not bored. It is impossible to be bored with You, Sky. One can watch and watch into You ad infinitum.
   The death makes us sober up. Sky, You are the death though You have given the birth to the life.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! I am already old. My bones crunch and knack. The body growing old becomes drier while the bone - brittle. The different things interest me. But I have them, the things which interest me. God damn it! There's life in the old dog yet! I am able to make resistance to You, Sky. You are, of course, everywhere. You are spreading through the air and water, which are in my veins, through the brittleness and elasticity of my bones. You are everything.
   Everything is Sky.
   But I also exist, as a feature, as thirst, as desire, as a notable and merciful idea, which changes the atmosphere in my body, that body, which is under Your reign, Sky; that body which You are spreading through, You who are all-pervasive Sky.
   Nevertheless, I am something, I mean something yet. Nevertheless, I exist. I hope I shall exist tomorrow. I am asked, "And what about the day after tomorrow?" Maybe, my children? As for me I shall be exhausted. Maybe, my children will manage to fight their way through Your mass, Sky? Maybe, they will manage to seep through Your Earth's crust, o high Sky? You are indeed everywhere. The ancients used to say that there is the Earth and the Sky. But they were mistaken. How naОve we should be to suggest the existence of the two origins. There is the only one. It is You, o Sky. You are within the Earth, within the space distances, within the other lands, called planets. You are in my veins pulsing, and rules me. But maybe, I mean something and will am able to make resistance? Maybe. Or maybe not. Everything is temporary. It is Your feature, o Sky. Everything is Yours.
   I will make resistance!
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Sky! My attempts to overcome the distances are miserable, when we look into Your depths of light years, through which we can travel and travel, from which we can wait anything, Sky. The treat is inevitable. And I understood this when I settled down to have children. From their early ages, I taught them not to speak to You, Sky, because it is in vain, but to do the own business on the quiet, not exactly against You, o Sky, because it is of no use, but for the own selves, to work for striving through Your spaces, master at least some opportunities of reigning over the nearest future time in order to have the use of it for the further businesses. However, I, of course, understand that from such depths as You have, o Sky, we are to expect anything.
   ...
   ...
   O Sky, when You give the births to the earthquakes, all the monuments and obelisks built by Human, all the memorials and mausolea collapse, being dug into the earth and disappear under the ruins of the nearby buildings. Man sometimes himself drags down his idols as it was once in ancient Kiev. But this is his own business. That is how he reconsiders his problems, Sky. Are they in compliance with You, o Sky?! Do they take into account You, o Sky?! If not, woe unto such deeds of Human. Their consequences are deplorable.
   ...
   ...
   O Sky! Sky! Shielding from the sun, I shall put five fingers of my hand on You. Moreover, I shall also put the second hand. It is unlikely to get darker. It is unlikely for me to be hidden from the penetrating rays. Just a game. I want to instate myself. But against whom? Against Sky! Against huge spreading Sky. No one has the sight enough to take in even the particle of this light blue body at a glance. However, throw swiftly with the eyes from the right part of the skyline to the left one. And what is then? There! Into the depth! Into the depth of celestial sphere. Cannot you do a thing like that? Of course, cannot. Not for your strengths. Of course not! Of a little human being. Even if to tune up the hugest telescope, which has been created by my brothers for thousands of years in early-morning-till-late-night work. Nevertheless, even with the sight cannot perceive, not that with the mind.
   O Sky! I am calling You out to a duel. Ridiculous. But I am calling out. Self-murderer? But what is the way out?
   You are trying to swallow me, all of us, all my brothers, and all my sisters.
   What about my father and mother? What will I say near their graves if I do not challenge this shining light blue monster?
   ...
   ...
   O Sky. Your heavy grey mass is pressing me to the earth, showing my place in such a way. In order to prevent me from itching to get to Heaven? O no! Impenetrable grey colour of Yours does not scare me. All the same, I will be trying to open Your mysteries, o Sky. For Your sake, though. In order to become stronger against Your invincible strengths.
   O Sky. The ancient people called You clear Sky, as Miracle, because if to look into the light blueness of Your expanses, the world around becomes glorious. From Your glory comes immortality. Therefore, silver-haired wise men said to You, "Divine Never Die", apart from the Amrita bowl and any other stimulating drink, the immortality was found. At the same moment, Man said to himself "Do not die". And the forces in his blood-pumping movement were increasing and that is why he could remove the mountains. Is that the thing frightening, You, o Sky?! Are You frightened that someone has been becoming stronger that You are. Don't mind this, Sky, look more carefully at Yourself. You are limitless in Your speciousness, and everlasting this time is. Human can fly and fly on You, for trillions of light years he can fly and will not reach Your ultimate profiles, though he will have flown through all the galaxies, all the black holes.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. You have spread to the all ends. One cannot envelop You. And there is no need to. Just for us to see this world, feel it. Just for us to live. That You do not touch us. Not wipe us off the face of the earth with Your hurricanes, with Your stars falling, whirlwinds. But will You listen to us? No! You do not have ears. You are the blind force, which does not know where is moving and what is doing...
   O Sky! O Sky! I am talking to You and the same as if I am talking to myself. You do not hear me. Not that You do not want to listen to me but Your deafness is due to the absence of ears. But I have them. I sometimes put the headphones on in order to hear the wailing of the winds reflected in the music, in those musical compositions, which were created by people who had listened to ... You wailings.
   But without phones I often listen to these wailings.
   In them, I find many timely and, I can say, life-true images, which worth being considered by Human of the future because fine threats are slipping in them. But lyricism as well! It means there is something from Human in You, Sky, something tender (maybe this tenderness is just poplar seed tufts from You, and their tenderness is incomparable?), sympathetic, kind ...
   Is it really so? Or I find what I want to find?
   Apparently, it is like that!
   O Sky, I find so many things in You! In Your moving clouds, there are many things. Here, there are ponies galloping and infinitely many faces with expressive eyes. Amongst these faces I also see many outstanding people as well as blurring individuals, changing into the same galloping ponies. Where is all this within You from? O Sky! No, no. All this is within me, within me.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! You made Man! But You did not give him opportunities to rise again after the death and return to the life. You have people going to the non-existence and dissolving again in You. Man contradicts You. He is already able to create himself anew. Human is able to concentrate the genetic information and produce himself again. But he cannot do it by himself alone, though. Multitude of people works over this through the mass of technologies. That is why the people reproduce those who during their lives were not selfish and gave themselves for the sake of others. Such people are needed by all, such people are needed for the life. And what about You, Sky? You are creating uncertainty.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! You created Man, gods, who proposed immortality. But this immortality is only for promise. When Man has really the chance to find the eternal life, You are striving to rub everything from the face of the Earth. You do not care. Just a game. Brainless game of Yours, o Sky!
   Verily, brainless creature!
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Tears are running out from my eyes. How many lives? How many lives have gone never to return! Some of them broke through. Stayed in the memory. Genii. Apart from this, everything is going never to return. Will You say that nothing disappears without a trace nor dies?
   But we are not talking about You, Sky! Humankind is enclosed within the own self, is busy with squabbles, intestine wars. When will at last the healthy branch sprout towards You, Sky, in Your direction, all-powerful, but not directed. Human is not good for it. He is able to direct himself and does not know where. He is fighting in favour of some gods, trampling down the others. But all the gods and all the people are under You, Sky, descended from You, o incomparable.
   From You, everything descends. Therefore, everything is like You in the war chaos, in a cold one during peace time, but the war, though. As if Man without mind. Yes, yes, he is filled by You, Sky! You have speared everything. What to do? People are at war during all the time of their history. Holding arms on fronts. In parliaments. In hot debates of TV shows. As if have no idea how to arrange for everybody's best, for everybody's best in the future. What is Your care, Sky? You are able to start from scratch all over again by arranging the end of the world. You are chaos, Sky? People as creatures with unsound minds follow You. They seem to do wisely. But they are possessed with the only-for-own-self emotions, only for the own body. Yes! People themselves arrange the casus and the peripetia in history. But they act in accordance with the objective reality, which You represent, Sky! And consequently, everything comes from You, Sky.
   Sky! The way You are arranging the casus in history amazes us.
   Will You say that it is not You? Will You say that people have arranged all this by themselves? But we are under Your glass bell, o Sky, aren't we? You are penetrating everything, o Sky!
   Unless we are under Your bell glass, though. And there is so much of casual, as we think, beyond Your power, Sky. This, I am saying in a whispering voice, to myself.
   In speculations of such a sort one gets confused for good.
   We, the people of the Earth, wander in our thoughts in the spaces among the stars; but not a jot of the earthy plot of 10 centimeter land, we allow our neighbour to take from us. Which is a right thing to allow this or not? Which deed serves the universal wellbeing, opportunity for people to settle down on the other planets and working up the Cosmos in the hopes of surviving? Or You are keeping silent, Sky, the chaotic creature without kith or kin. And this is You, Sky!
   You!
   You are chaos!
   I am speaking openly.
   ...
   ...
   One day I will start my songs. Let Sky examine me as if with X-rays.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! We all are hostages taken by You.
   At any time You can start the end of the worlds.
   ...
   ...
  
  
  

2011.

  
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Sky. So huge, so mighty but squander Yourself on trifles. You make, for example, the life of a miserable, poor, old and ill person more intolerable. And why do You need this? Or You are perfectly brainless? ...
   Sky!
   ...
   ...
   Sky. So blue, so blue when night, You become absolutely white under the rays of the rising sun, even if You are in a thick fog. Are You the same, Sky? Or there is no the self in You? Under influence of the items composing You -- the Sun, for example, -- You change Yourself out of all recognition. Or You don't have the own self?
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Light! Human is able to feel the state when he is himself existence while necessity at this has no differences from the existence because of turning into it. There is randomness both in the base of such a state and in the base of the existence as it is an objective reality. Necessity merges with this randomness as the noted by Man particular cases of regularities and recurrence. Such a type of being is the state of God. But in the beginning, there was non-existence as non-existing objective reality. It began to swell due to the own non-existence and because of possessing the abilities to change. As this process began, the new feature appeared, the existence began. It begot its reflection, the human existence. And this caused the return to the original as the state of God within Human. So, it begot the state of the Riches of original integrity. But Human himself is able to effect these processes somehow. Certainly, the ways of God are inscrutable and these effects could be in vain. However, if there is earnest will in praying, we have a fair chance. But the earnest character for the sake of life should be above all. And here, there is no need in hypotheses for deceiving time and saving the life. Here is the ruin of various hypotheses and this begets new opportunities due to the cleaned place having appeared. Here is the ruin of various limits; and that is why everything is possible. Compensatory mechanisms are activated. Brain has great compensatory opportunities. And this is at expense of the existence of opposites within Human. When you feel pain you can synthesize endorphins and enkephalins in your organism, which are the substances of happiness and felicity.
   That's the way it is, Light.
   ...
   ...
   Initially, there was entropy. Though, even it was not there; because there was no being. Existence. There was no thing to occur. Nothing was there.
   The only nothing initially. And just by chance, due to this nature of nothing, the existence appeared in the form of low entropy and was energetically capacious place.
   Who will say that I am not right?
   Will it be You, Sky with Your native property to change?
   ...
   ...
   The time will come and I shall pass away from this world. Disappear. Vanish. Turn into nothing. In certain time, everything what I have created will disappear; there will be no bridges I have built. They will age, cripple.
   I will be obliterated from the memory of people.
   Then, people will disappear as well. The Earth and the Sun will finish their existence. The significant catastrophes in the outer space will occur.
   But You will stay, Sky.
   (The warder? Are You watching?)
   My words are not to You, Sky. And You will understand nothing. A great pity!
   ...
   ...
   Sky. I show Humankind how to fight with You. But I do not profit from this. Just all bumps on my head. But I continue showing Humankind the way how to save ourselves from You, Sky. But why am I doing this, then? People do not deserve to be saved. They fool around. Play the "God's fool". They are drinkers. Have entertainments. And do not have any interests to this. They have only one life. Currently. At the moment. They live as grass. But live pleasing their whims. They deserve the death. In any case, they deserve to be made answerable for what they have committed.
   But why do I worry about Mankind and pry into other people affairs with my directions? Maybe because my daughter will stay after me? But she is having her life no better, though. Not according to my precepts. A bad fortune. A bad fortune.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. I know that nobody will pay me for my words. (Only the losses I have.) This will not give me the payments from the state pension fund. Put on the Internet, my words cost free. Those, published in books, novels and short stories, will not be bought! But what is the reason? Because of the shortage of talent and tongue tied phrases? In general, because of the absence of demand in the certain historical period.
   I know that my discourse will not give my any profit, but the time will be spent for pronouncing it and writing down; eventually, the poverty is waiting for me, abject poverty and sinking into oblivion...
   But nevertheless I am shouting, saying, writing, Sky, about You, that You are dangerous, that we should expect everything from You, everything whatever You want to do, and suddenly.
   I let the knowing beforehand!
   I know that my days left have been calculated already and I shall not survive with my phrases about You, Sky, in this biting, cruel world of material wealths. I shall not survive because I have lavished myself completely in writing about You, Sky, and did not produce enough milk, bread and vegetables for being fed. I have not done this because all my time is consumed by letting the people of the world know beforehand about the only terrible danger, which could come only from You, Sky, in order to warn the people even at cost of my own life. What is life of mine, then? Champ! Sky has swallowed it.
   ...
   ...
   My testament to Mankind is only one, o Sky, it is warning. I warn about your habits, Sky, about the cunning of Yours, about You, about You, Sky. And no other. (Take into notice!)
   The life is short. The days of the life go away as water pours. How fast the silver hair appears, and more moles on the body, while the wrinkles cover the body and face. If only to have time to express everything.
   And why? Well, you may die being entertained, if you like, Man.
   No. No! My children will stay after me. They will live and they will die on this earth, maybe simply in outer space depths. That is why I am making an effort to tell all what I think about You, Sky. Whether it is good or bad, I do not know. This does not depend upon me. The phrases come from nowhere. I just note them down on the right time. I write, write... Even if it is the work to be collected into the drawer. I discourse, shout about You, Sky. But at this people take me for a mad one. Not a homeless tramp, no. I am neat with me clothes. But they take me for an insane one. And I am not understood in this world. I shout about You, Sky. But people are busy with a roulette game, drinking bear, sexual intercourse from morning till night, they arrange horse racing, carting, corrida, football matches, boxing fights, festivals and so on, so on, so on ... Shows! Continuous shows.
   I come from my previous lives. I live in Ukraine. Here, this is called "Maidance" project1. Maybe it is organized in order to prevent maidan from being occupied by other people who will demand right redistribution of wealths. That is why the show is arranged there. In order to keep the place busy. In order not to let others be on the maidan near the president's apartments.
   Shows. Continuous shows. Shows are everywhere. Anyway, feast in time of plague.
   Sky. Maybe it is You who arrange all these entertaining beastliness in order to mislead us from the principle thing, from You. But You arrange this in order to distract people from their stomachs from that the effective government and oligarchs are wrongly, wrongly redistribute the wealths of the country.
   Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! The government is incapable. Incapable for elementary things. Capable only for talks, taking revenge upon the previous leaders and suppressing all national because it possesses the true life values and is a real treat.
   Well, what a great hit with the idea of importing buckwheat from China while we are living on the black soils2. Instead of supplying buckwheat to the Chinese people (supplying of own needs goes without saying), they import this very buck-wheat because of its shortage. Price inflation. For making a fortune? A short fortune has been made during the life? O Sky, Sky! All this following Your example. You are ruling, Sky. It means You encourage this. No, no I forgot. You
   The government is obviously brainless. And You indulge this, Sky.
   O! I forgot again. You are the same, brainless Sky; blind force.
   I just start forgetting things very often. Is it an old age sneaking up to me imperceptibly? Then I shall start blaming the forces from the other world, when I start to feel the legs weak for no reason at all. But without minding the aging body.
   No. no. I hope it will never be. Anyway, I shall strive to objectivity, to reflect the reality adequately.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Humankind thought out all this. All this in the world. They thought out a lot of things. A huge mass of entertainment... Books? Whatever! E-books, the whole libraries could be placed on one device. And read as much as you want. Video? Whatever!
   But they did not think out the way how to get rid of You, Sky. Of Your threat. And hardly will think it out. You are continuously huge; unbounded. Human is trapped. In spite of the own genius and abilities to find the way out of any situation even the most as it may seem, desperate one.
   So many times storms and hurricanes, Your mates, Sky, drag down telegraph-poles and tear the network wires but Man repaired all this. For ever and ever, he fates to repair all this. And You - to tear, Sky? Commit outrages? "Everything is arranged in this way". You will say mockingly.
   Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Who knows? And if Human suddenly at all contrive somehow with the own genius and take possession over You, Sky? Suddenly take possession over Your energies and their sources? Though, he is busy with quite different things. Football, for example. No care being taken about the health but about its losing, breakdown for money. But football is not final. What about gambling? All the days long playing roulette. Not in a mood for studying the origins of Your energies, Sky. And many of them even have not thought about this. They are in a rush for profits. It means there is a shortage, doesn't it? Is it starvation? Somebody has too much, in excess, enough and to spare and therefore a lot of things is just thrown away in spite of the labour and time spent on it. Somebody is the total shortage. Cannot make both ends meet.
   Wasn't it You who have arranged all this, Sky?
   A massive of various miracles is invented by the genius of Human. Video, audio ... With the aim to distract from principle, fundamental, original - that is taking possession over You, Sky, Your energies by finding how these energies are begot?
   Isn't it You who distract people from the principle, Sky?
   What about prostitution, lesbianism, homosexualism? This is for making semen to go into nowhere, isn't it? For making it turn into nothing instead of giving birth to new and new hordes of people to settle down the other planets, occupying the territories? Your territories? Sky. That is the only way to take You, to take possession over You. By occupying the spaces. And You know this, Sky, see. Human without controlling himself and being aware of the own dire future, just live as vegetation, as grass. Human is not much different from the grass. Except for inventing the Internet. Even that - for the own perishing.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. What am I showing the way to Humankind for? Why do I need this? Why am I showing?
   Glory? I do not want it!
   Why am I showing the way to the saving?
   Better I will be with You, Sky. You are making experiments. Then, You will put an end to the all.
   If I joint You? But You do not need my help, though. You are playing with fortuity - that is.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. Well... Why cannot people arrange their common life in a way for everybody to have enough? The agricultural technology is well developed, isn't it? So many products are grown. Where does it go? Why do so many people starve? Some have much more than enough, others - insufficient.
   It is arranged so.
   No, it is you who arranged this, Man; the sprout of the Sky.
   No, it is arranged by you, small group of oligarchs, money-bags, you have arranged for your interests and for the interests of the Sky. Being in power, you developed the laws with which it is profitable only for you. For the others - not. Totally unprofitable for Human's life. Nevertheless, the laws are created and adopted. We cannot break them. But these laws give only the way to the same sex relations, but not to the children to be given birth. With these laws alcoholism, drug addiction and tobacco smoking are developed. And this is called freedom and democracy. Freedom for alcoholics? And whose benefit is it for?
   For alcoholics! And authorities!
   And authorities? Oh, is it possible?
   We cannot break liberties!
   Human is similar to You, Sky. Continuous Chaos.
   Are you looking for the similar to You, Sky?
   Oh, so! You do not search anything at all. You are simply blowing. Your spaciousness is wind. And should Human have wind in the head? Do You want this, Sky?
   Oh, so, You want nothing. You want Man to imitate You. No, no. Some people-oligarchs want this in order to people imitate You.
   ...
   ...
   Yes, Sky, democracy chooses an ignorant crowd for voting, giving the votes.
   Isn't this democracy a one for the rich, a one for oligarchs, who introduce their rules of a game because they have power in order to prolong their having power for further enrichment?
   And results? The results are void and null. Sweating the people. Only for a small group of public to live contributing nothing beneficial done with the own labour but robbing a great part of material staff and wealths.
   This is thought out by people. So that to live without considering objective laws, having been developed by the science, but to live considering the expanding needs of the part of the public, oligarchs. Do they need many flats and many houses and many villas? Whatever1 Freedom, democracy. Who cares that a part of gifted public is just homeless?
   That is the way it is, Sky. That is a whim of the privileged. And Yours, maybe?
   ...
   ...
   I am a graphomaniac. Many people claim this, Sky. They all, probably, are in cahoots with You. They want me not to write low about You. But I am writing as it comes. The total absence of control over me. At that time I am becoming You, Sky. And You feel uncomfortable because of this.
   You are in cahoots with them, Sky! In order I do not write! But something is writing within me. And I am moving my hand, pressing with my fingers. And You cannot stop this, Sky. Except perhaps, You will plague me to my hand crippling. But while I am able-bodied I will continue.
   All the women with who I had had the affairs abandoned me. And I am writing. At my own expense, I publish the books about You, Sky. They are not widely bought. But in these publications I put all my money, which time by time I come to by lecturing. What woman is able to bear it? This lean purse.
   All the money is spent for publishing the books about You, Sky. The books are not widely bought. The waste of both the money and the books. Was it You, who arranged all this, Sky? To make a graphomaniac of me. All the women I had met were advising me to concentrate more on lecturing. At least it gives some incomes. To lecture and waste money on their outfit? These are Your mean things, Sky! It is in return for my writing about You?!
   I am a graphomaniac. My hand in moving on the paper by itself; the fingers are pressing the right keys by themselves. And they will move all about You, Sky. But do not flatter Yourself that you can seduce me by a woman's beauty and I shall waste all of my incomes for dressing this beauty and stop publishing books about You. No. Sky! It will never be. Indeed, the sense of my life is to dethrone Your cunning. Only with this I am busy like hell. And nothing can curl me up. Except perhaps, the disease. Except perhaps, prison bars when my arms are to be pinned to prevent my fingers from being moving on the paper and producing information about You, Sky, just from moving.
   That is, Sky! Push diseases. Push prison bars to Your graphomaniac. But I have already written and published something. You will not escape, Sky, hiding in heroes or covering Yourself with the beauty of night stars in the moon shine. Not possible for You to hide Your gulfing jaw.
   I shall show You up in Your true colours, Sky. Though, You are all-powerful. Similar to the Jewish God, aren't You? Are you alike the Jewish God? Or the God is alike You? We are not be to puzzled with this. Everything is confused in the Human's culture. I am Alpha and Omega. I believe in myself and continue graphomaniacing. And the fingers holding the feather are sliding on the paper by themselves. And it does not depend upon me. And they cannot be stopped, Sky. Think out something, Sky. The deeds of my hands do not depend upon me. I am out of the control. At such moments I am becoming You, Sky. I am the Sky. Does this offend You? I can commit such sorts of things!
   ...
   ...
   I lost the sense in my living. Just right now. I have nothing to cling to. I am a mad man. Having possessed the Higher State of the Spirit, Nirvana, the Kingdom of God. People are terrified when in my company. And are You, Sky? You are afraid of nothing, though. Lost the fear. For a some while I am becoming You.
   ...
   ...
   For me, this world of people is foreign, Sky. Not because as a rich man I see it only just through a bullet-proof glass of my Mercedes, I see this threatening world full of offended people, offended by me, the rich man, the oligarch. No, no. For me this world of people is foreign because I am not understood, I am not considered. Different ideals? Yes! Different values? Yes!
   The people have values different from mine, do they? But this is unlikely. There is the only value - life. But due to their weaknesses, people forget about it. Throw themselves into senseless entertainments, play roulette, arrange continuous shows. Feast in time of plague! Everything has become clear by now. The world is under threat. Under threat is life. So, start doing the job! But you are feasting, Man. In Your random movements, in your mind, you are like Sky.
   ...
   ...
   I come from my previous lives. I live in Ukraine.
   This year, we have bumper crop of fruits and vegetables, and grains, and beans. They say, it is a problem. All this is spoiling and going bad, impossible to supply. Though, in many parts of the world people not even have insufficient but starve.
   I come from my previous lives. I live in Ukraine. In Ukraine, there is also total starvation at such a crop.
   They say, there are no storages, storages for grains, for vegetables. And that is the problem. No storages, they have not been built, and that is why everything is spoiling and going bad.
   Have not built storages. Seventy years of the Soviet power. Twenty years of Independent Ukraine. And they do not have storages built, don't they? So, whom to blame? Are the storages to be blamed for not having been built? Human, Human. You are brainless. You are begot by the brainless Sky. For the seventy years of the Soviet power and twenty years of Independent Ukraine, nobody has foreseen a bumper-crop year - and the building of the storages. Human, you are obviously brainless creature. You are like the Sky. Although you had wit enough to take the last remaining crumbs from the like in bumper-crop years, arranging forced famine to take away everything to someplace. Where? To the other people who had grown nothing. And those who had grown it were made to die of famine? And it would never come to your mind to leave a little bit for preventing from dying from hunger? Well, you are obviously brainless creature, Human. You are like the Sky.
   ...
   ...
   The one who possesses the TV channels possesses people; muzzles people's minds with delusional TV programs.
   Sky, why do You allow it when the channels are possessed not by scientists but by the propagandists of pathology?
   Although, You allow everything. Without choosing and selecting. There is no conscious life.
   ...
   ...
   Sky. I am stepping the land with my foot. The land is solid. There is a bearer there. And You are there - something airy. Though, the earth is also the Sky. Everything is the Sky. Cold. And this is the first sign.
   The Earth is the Sky.
   Air is the Sky.
   The Water, the cool heaven's water is the Sky.
   The Sun and the Stars are the Sky. It is the origin of everything. It begot everything. Begot the two own contrasts of the cold Water and the hot Sun, Stars.
   The Water is closer to You, Sky. It is cold and fluidly uncatchable. The hot water is not closer to the Sun. Water evaporations are closer. But the same, also the Sky. I got giddy. Have no place to go.
   ...
   ...
   Everything is confusing. The Water, the Sun, the Air. What has originated from what? Everything originated from that Infinity ... it means from You, Sky.
   ...
   ...
   I will believe only in Certainty. Otherwise, I will not meet the ends.
   Human. You are leprous. (No not speak to anyone. Do not tough anyone.) Believe only in Certainty. Otherwise, You will not meet the ends. And the Sky will swallow you.
   ...
   ...
   Human! Your big heart is greater than the Sky!
   Sky. Because of these words You will become jealous.
   The Sky is the Sky!
   ...
   ...
   Human. I shall bet my hand ...
   No, no. I shall bet my life that You will not be able to possess the Universe, to reveal its deep secrets and to command it.
   That is why you are little while it is big, infinitively big, isn't that? No. Not because of it. You just does not do it. You are busy only with yourself aiming to rob a spare slice from the fellow, slice of bread, slice of land, part of a cottage, part of a house. You are busy with intrigues for this. You strive to power in order to create laws with which you can take away more from the standing-bys. In order to live at somebody's cost, at the cost of those who have nothing. All your strengths, all your might are directed to this. That is why you are not engaged in the overall problems, the problems of all how to be saved and to survive from the impending Universe, from the threatening changes which will be in the future.
   Not possessing the Universe means dying. But you are not worried about it, Human. You are busy with intrigues, internecine wars. And only with one aim. To have more than required by health criteria and sanitary code, which have been established by scientific objectivity. For instance, to have the excess in food will result in your running fat and being injurious to your health, from the diseases you will die earlier. The others will also pass away earlier, because of the malnutrition or modified food, which you thought out for their perishing. That is the direction your mind works. Well, as you are a sponger, for the general welfare you are a sponger, Human. You have only one interest, Human. Little. Little interest. The interest of the own stomach. Well, as animals do. That is why protecting yourself with the Christian mercies, you are not far from the wild world. But the same is for your benifit in order the others be merciful but you utilize it and fatten yourself.
   But when you are merciful, you do it only for being merciful. To treat the alcoholics with wine. Not for worsening their state, is it? Human, Human.
   You are the emanation of the Sky.
   ...
   ...
   Sky! Sun!
   I wish to be a genius for ever and ever, and ever.
   To become the genius for ever and ever, and ever I should think out how to save secure Humankind.
   Well!
   Not an easy job.
   ...
   ...
   The Sky (heaven's spaciousness) is water (heaven's waters) and fire (The Sun and the Stars). Water - blue. Fire - yellow. They are neither in equilibrium nor in harmony. The God, the Divinity as absolute equilibrium and harmony could be only in the future. In the present - only the chaos, where the Sun and the Stars give their light to the outer space. In the present, there is no Divinity. Human is able to feel the state of the God, when the warmth of the inspiration and the coolness of the will are absolutely balanced in him.
   So, go ahead, Human! Balance the contrasts in yourself, in order not to be torn up by them, breaking the processes of assimilation and dissimilation within you. Do something beneficial for yourself. Or else stretching your hand for a cigarette to break everything in yours.
  
  
   ---
   Translator's footnotes:
  
   1 Translator's footnote: The hint at 2011 TV shows called "Maidance". The mentioned show incorporated various cities of Ukraine competing with each other in mass dancing on the main squares (maidans) of the participating cities.
  
   2 Translator's footnote: Buckwheat is a national agricultural product which is effectively planted on black soils of Ukraine.
  
   ...
   ...
  
  
  

Contents

  
   2007..................................................3
   2011.................................................30
  
  
  
  
  

Лiтературно-художнє видання

МУРАШКIН Михайло Георгiйович

SKY

Англiйською мовою

Вiдповiдальний за випуск Г.М. Гарченко

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   Мурашкiн М.Г.
   М91 Sky. Днiпропетровськ: "Iнновацiя", 2014. - 48 с.
  
   ISBN 978-966-8676-35-8
  
   This book tells about the Sky as a hazard. The writings composing this edition reflect the intention of an author to prevent the advancing hazardous situation in the future.
  

УДК 081/082

ББК 94; я44

  
  
  
  
   На обкладинцi використано зображення "Никшарум" (Свiдоцтво про реєстрацiю авторського права на твiр N 32181).
  
  
   Зв'язок з автором здiйснюється через електронну пошту й мобiльний телефон:
   Е-mail: michailmurashkin@gmail.com
   Мобiльний телефон: 097 45 90 308
   095 5 81 91 21
  
   Додаткова iнформацiя в Iнтернетi:
   1) michailmurashkinbooks.blogspot.com [або: Издания Михаила Мурашкина]
   2) http: // samlib.ru/m/murashkin_m_g/ [або: Мурашкин Михаил Георгиевич - Lib.ru: Журнал "Самиздат"]
   3) murashkin.jimdo.com [або: Записи Мурашкина]
   4) mgmurashkin.jimdo.com
   5) murashkinmg.narod.ru
  
  
  

Здано на складання 21.04.2014.

Пiдписано до друку 84.05.2014.

Формат 60х84 1/16. Гарнiтура Таймс.

Папiр друкарський. Друк рiзографiчний.

Ум. друк. арк. 2,8. Обл.-вид.арк. 3,35.

Тираж 1000 прим. Замовлення. N1047.

Видавництво "Iнновацiя"

49006, м. Днiпропетровськ, вул. Свердлова, 70

Свiдоцтво про внесення до Державного реєстру

ДК N 1761 вiд 22.04.2004 р.

E-mail: innovacia@list.ru

http://svidler.dp.ua

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   52
  
  
  
  
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