Аннотация: Just something about nothing. Sacrificied to Milorad Pavich.
What a human can tell the trees about an origin of the Life? The only ideas which he can keep are: The Word at the beginning and The Eternity at the end.
You will think that I want to be the God of the words - you'll be right, perhaps, but partly.
I just need to become an owner of my brain. May be.
But let air interrupt my empty attempts to get the equal knowledge (with yourself) of your soul. I'm not a prophet.
I'ld like to tell you a little story of the Greatest History. A few unrhymes from the unwritten unsong.
So, listen to the letters and feel the voice of the white papers.
There are the worlds
Consisting of the trees,
Which are full of words
Whispered by leaves.
There are the Gods
Whom you don't remember,
There are the wots
Like the burning ember.
Thee have given Beauty
Whom you love forever,
And the storms are muted
While she sleeps whenever.