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Follow your heart
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Unveiled the frailty of our race.
The spire of Peter’s dreams stood tall,
While fog embraced the river’s call.
A dual city, shadowed, bright,
Where sin and virtue shared the night.
He walked the streets where horses trod,
Where stones bore weight beneath their nod.
And in their laboured, ceaseless tread,
He felt eternity’s hymn instead.
Dostoevsky’s eyes could see
The duality of humanity.
His legacy whispers, timeless and clear,
In Peter’s mist and Dostoevsky’s sphere.
I DROPPED MY SWORD IN BATTLE
“After a long day as a lawyer, exhaustion weighed on me like armour I couldn’t remove. It was as if I had fought a battle only to discover there was no victory. I poured my weariness into these words…”
I dropped my sword in battle’s haze,
A weary knight through endless days.
My armour fractured, my spirit worn,
A silent witness to wars I’ve borne.
I left my demons in the dust,
But still, they clawed, relentless, just.
No laurel crowns, no victor’s prize,
Just thorn-strewn paths beneath grey skies.
The cross I carried, sharp and cold,
Has bent my back, no strength to hold.
I sought the light in fleeting dreams,
But found instead life’s fractured streams.
Why does fate’s flame so fiercely burn,
Only to fade, its embers churn?
The ash takes root where passion lay,
And life, once bright, dissolves to grey.
My soul, unbound, begins to rave,
Immortal spirit, mortal slave.
The poison tempts, salvation calls,
Yet shadows stalk these hallowed halls.
A knight once stood within my chest,
Now he lies still, resigned to rest.
With trembling hands, I lift my plea:
Is peace found only in the sea?
The veins that pulse, the silvered strands,
The fleeting strength of faltering hands—
I search the skies, the earth, the sword,
And find no solace, save the Lord.
Through battlefields of endless night,
I march alone, devoid of light.
Yet hope, a whisper soft, delays—
Perhaps the dawn will bring my day.
I WHISPER TO YOU
“The evening had surrendered to the quiet embrace of twilight, the sky a soft canvas of fading hues. Trees stood as shadows against the horizon, their silhouettes etched in stillness. A silver thread of moonlight spilled across the waves, weaving the realms of reality and reverie. In that sacred stillness, words rose unbidden, fragile and eternal, carried on the breath of the night.”
I whisper to you:
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очень хорошая книга для студентов и учителей