some people perceive the world as a battleground, thinking in notions of winning and losing, revenges and triumphs, not realizing or not believing there are those who are here to sing and dance, softening the grass blade of every sadness into the blossoming air. freedom flowers.
true power is
not in expanding,
but within restraint.
not to control the entire space,
but to admit that Another
has all the rights for
a different breath
(art by Vladimir Sidoruk)
anyone who tries to take away your mirror
does it to build their own mirror rooms
narrowing your vernal song.
you are the blossom
and you are a wholeness.
don’t be afraid of the air and freedom.
don’t be afraid of your voice.
(art by Cori Lee Marvin)
happiness
is a natural state
when one who rules it
values peace above all else
(art by Olena Klymenko)
do not even try
to wound the spirits
of nightingales from Persia.
it’s ever a vain attempt
to limit the eternity
ты почувствуешь
нежность открытых окон
(свежий ветер и бабочку света;
теплоту, что жестокому миру
никогда не отнять)
рядом с ними спокойно и просто и верно
рядом с ними свободно дышать
(картина Елены Юшиной)
softlings re-appear
where a curious nose
shares their springs
(art by Emily Duffin)
such is an act of experience.
but not the one of books, induced
by smart societies, even the human wise.
i’m listening to wind of sea and steppes
and native flowers and swaying grass.
adoring is also adorning-
in a way where the essence
blossoms wholly, without a limit
that remains (left after the aches
or a strange fashion of disaffection)
adorning that liberates
knowing is slow, a witness
of a blizzard winter. a deep
that shapes, a river streaming
incense ice. what is below
transcends, what soars above
is breathful grounding-
and lostness sings of harmony:
a fireflying snow to sight.
but i did see true north.
those polar lights of early
childhood, when something showed
how illusions are. each fear
fades away, each loneliness
reflects the timeless. and
what does matter is the honesty
of dancing galaxies from heart.
yelena's poetry 