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Finding Neverland Blog Archive

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Lights of Peace.


Lights of the World

Written By: Alla Luys (Armenia)

On the white tracks of the snow-covered path was walking Grace, the spirit of peace. Mercy-riffled waves of the human conscience were dancing in the boundless sea of her compassionate  heart. The girl was as urging along by the icy snowstorm as the flowing water clears the spraying  mirrors of its road. The powerful velvetiness of hair of Grace had lost in the marble pant of the silver snows.

The spring florescence was smelling in the depths of the blue-eyed girl's entity. She had held a  straw basket which had been  filled with the buds of the blood-coloured roses. Light green sprouts of the  dress of Grace was decorating her body, but did not able to protect it from the shiver of cold.

On the steel ice and immaculate snows barefooted was walking the girl.

It seemed to the girl under her feet  the fragments of the broken glasses had been spilled,   which would grow decorated with sprouts  blossom in the spring sunny days.

Grace was the bright image of the cold kindness. Searching the centenary way of peace, she was  going to the far of eternal. The gracious world of Grace was secluded from the council of  wickedness.

In the clean of her intact existence she found the boundlessness of the consoling mercy. Living lonely, far from the relational compassion, she was wanting to become support to the human  sorrows and to bring peace to the noising world. Now in the luminous soul of Grace was wandering  the distressing winds of war by which was separated the unity of the peaceful hearts.

She looked at the roses of the basket which had been  endowed with the ability to speak.

''Where from and how have we been  appeared in the basket?'' one from them asked to Grace.

''You are the scented sheets of the human hopes. Every hope of  living peaceful becomes an   affectionate rose-leaf and decorates my straw basket. Your sheets are inexhaustible as human  hopes,'' Grace said.

'' Where do we hurry to? '' spoke another flower.

''We go to helping people who became the living victims of the judicious beasts,'' the girl  answered.

There were wars  in the many corners of the world at that time.

Escalating explosions were blowing bloody clashes of the agitating rage in many countries.

Grace reached to a city where war had  been liked  to a  sudden earthquake. The girl was walking  through the ruins where was still  responding the sigh of the broken hearts.The peaceable crowd  of the guiltless people was resisting to the wolfish intensity of the sinful frenzy.

Hundreds of bloodthirsty promoters were wanting  to enlarge  the territories of their countries. It was  made the biggest misdeed-a human was deprived from the right of living peaceful.

Columns of hope of the people were abasing by the rising weapons.

From the bawls of the people was raising smoke of sharp pain and merging into the iron call of  bombs going out as lost supplication.

The formidable shudder of the fright of dying had been  stamped on their discolored faces. Though  human hearts were clinked of the longing of living, they feet had hugged to the deep-water  dampness of the soil. Some people were running away reckless. They were  leaving their homes  without looking back.

The spirit of peace saw a boy, who had fallen as an germinated bud of the snaky hope on  taking with him the earthen ash of the sinking yearnings. It seemed the killer of the juvenile had  closed the rises which touching to the window.

''The most dangerous creature of the world is the merciless human,'' Grace thought.

The girl was going on  to drive through  the roads of war. Bullets on touching Grace were growing lights of  peace and leaving her harmless.

Driving from country to country, city to city the spirit of peace had  bestrewed the rose-leaves   on  the weapons.

Roses of the basket were inexhaustible.

The girl was climbing to the snow-capped vertexes of the towering mountains where were ruling  the hurricane thunders of the eternal thunderstorms. The hard rise was knitting long strings of  patience and fixing the price the joy of reaching to the apex  of a mountain. The horrid wind was  tearing the downhill slopes of the mountain and with hissing reaching to the stony sight of the invisible gorges.

Passing mountain to mountain Grace rose-leaves powdered on their white vertexes.

Then the girl reached to the ground of seas on finding the gigantic hiding places of the weapons  and atomic bombs.

''The fear towards the heights and depths keeps people in the precipice of the mediocre flatness,''  Grace called to the roses.

The spirit of peace was preventing the wars of the world.

Once,  she closed to the barbed wires which were  lining the borders of the different countries and  flooded their with the red velvet of the rose-leaves. Barbed wires grew gleaming columns. In people  hearts trouble gave up to the lost quiet.

They were possessed by amazement. Many people didn't understand what was going on. The  motion of the crowded folk had been liked  to the repatriation of the migrant people.

Some people had been hugged excited, others were spilling tears of happiness.

''How could I harming people,'' John thought, who was still killing people,''it is hard the  conscious of your own blames.''

A beautiful girl, who faintly had recovered from the shock of the war, closed to John and said,''War is the orphaned baby, the lonely mother, the barefooted old man and the homeless  granny. It's the early winter of the disillusioned hearts.''

A clad in black woman, who had lost her home by the consequence of the war, was crying sat on  the ruins. Her sobs seemed to be a song of loss of the crumbled hearth.

The spirit of peace closed to a woman and said,'' Have bravery to standing on the ruins or else  you will stay under the staidness of those''

''The house is built with difficult and destroyed easily,'' the woman said.

It seemed  the gray sky was crumbled in the half-dark slowly on  leaving in a shadow  the blue  illusion of the tremulous hearts.

Grace took the cracked hands of the woman into her affectionate palms.The spirit of peace took    rose-leaves from the basket and powdered on her hands.Rose-leaves on growing lights of peace  rested the snaky heart of the woman.

''Winning at the inner war you become persistent towards the world,''the smilingly girl said.

Grace burned lights of peace into the restless hearts of people.

Became calm from the resentment of the war people were too surprised with the made miracle.  They tried to find the unreachable key of the mysterious secret. Driving everywhere, they were  finding   rises of light, not weapons. All the sorts of the  weapons and atomic bombs had been growing  fiery rises of light.  Barbed wires had grown  gleaming columns and repelling away the breath of the war.

Time passes. On the saddle of days had bestrides the lasting for ever horseman of centuries.

Old generations are replaced by the new posteriors. In their hearts the  centennial response of the genetic  memory rises the inexhaustible mania of making war and conquering countries.

Time brings the  new waves of rage. The spirit of peace still drives with  all the sides of the globe.  She powders  rose-leaves on weapons preventing the mighty wars of the world. In the different places of  the world the lights of peace burn bonfires in which  is fried the iron dust of the metallic weapons.  

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