The Spirit of Truth

Time is your only interlocutor.

Let him speak all to the last word,
so that you will mature into good wine
and leave the captivity into your countless springs
and pour out of your bottle
into the cups of eternity among us.

If you count outside,
there is an eternal deficit for the one who counts,
as a river that says it is alone and yet it is full of fish.

If you count inside,
there is the eternal surplus for the one who counts,
as a fisherman who caught fish in the river.

Therefore, be a river to everyone else, not just to yourself,
so that others may be a river to you
and to each other
out of one eternally uncounted fish
baskets full of fishes.

When you count outside yourself,
you are page of a book, which is assembling together
but is always misses the author –
you who are counting
and with your pages extort others for your authorship.

And when you count inside yourself,
inside the only real space of eternal life,
the author of the book is known as the eternal surplus
which is you who are counting and never finishing.

You decide only on the balance in this world.
You are either in pair with the inner space of eternal peace
or with the time outside that haunts you.
You will know this yourself.

Blessed is he who has lost everything and accepted it,
for he will bring joy to others and others to him.

You are a wind rising into the sky under your own sun.
and with foreign wind you become a hurricane –
if you do not remain only an evening breeze,
which falls asleep inside, so that the morning can wake him up.

Contents are only your mirrors,
unless you are the bird of silence
which is coming to you.

If you have ever seen a tiny bird,
drinking drops of morning dew,
then you know of the secret of eternal heaven within you.

If you live it and not deny it as Peter did,
then it is coming to visit you today.

Everything and everyone is the presence of eternity to all others;
however human is a creature who does not allow
the presence of the eternity of another to live,
but uses it only to mirror his own presence
in the face of the eternity of everyone else.

But he would rest as a distant star, which lives,
even though it is does not exist on its own for ages.
He would rest in peace and quiet,
if he would let his essence live here with one another
and not in the mirrors of time.

A thread is winding like the earth into tangles of everyday life
and weaves into the transient canvases the manna from heaven.

But inside of you is He, the needle’s eye of the right hand,
waiting for you, needle’s eye,
so that the thread of eternal life could start running between you.

Everyone is his own heartache
and he difficultly recognizes the melody of his heart.

But if it relies on foreign sounds,
his heart beats quieter and quieter,
because your bells are calling only for you,
traveller through foreign world,
to return.

Life is a reading of eternal memory on all levels
and wisdom every read page that sleeps within you.
Because to you, man, it is given
to read from the memory card of eternal life,
it also is given to you to erase.
But in your own arbitrariness, you only erase from yourself.

The mortal sin against the Holy Spirit is the automatic erasure within you,
who without word threw away what you read out of the spirit of memory.
So what will you do on the day when memory will resurrect
and stand quietly without words in front of you?

Dark matter, the greatest secret of the universe,
is the memory card of creation, out of which the dark force,
which embodies the dream, originates.
And your palms are the living dream of reality,
searching for their source with your fingers.

He took bread, he broke it, and gave to them, saying “Do this in memory of me,”
because for he himself went out of dreams into memory
and is waiting for someone.
Because, where there are two in memory,
memory fulfils itself as the third force of eternal life.