Monday, January 11, 2010


Beauty of Winter by Tim Žibrat
It was just one of the long days in the end of December. I was walking alone through the silent park with trees blocking the view on both of my sides. The peace was distracted just every now and then with the falling of the snow from the full branches and I saw only my footsteps when turning back. But the mysterious thing happened when I turned again to continue with my way. As I was looking mostly just in front of my feet I first saw there a pair of two black boots and then my sight led me up and up and finally I saw them. The Eyes.
What happened next I can hardly describe. Trees weren't desaturated gray anymore, they got wonderful colors. Sky wasn't full of sad little snowflakes, it was crying with golden tears, each shining brightly as a Christmas star. I was walking with Her, but my mind wasn't there. It was making a way on it's own. Somewhere in the distant I saw an old man carrying a little lamb towards a bight horizon. I heard bleating of sheep coming from the distance. A child's cry was calling, people were rushing to go see the baby. But baby was so bright I couldn't see him. I just think I heard him say: She's the present; take care of her, protect her, be thankful; be happy! I looked at Her and than I realized. What a present has been in my embrace so many times this day! This day ... It was beautiful, it was poetic, it was unearthly. Was she from heaven?

It was a snowflake on my nose. It soon melted away and then I realized I was there alone, on the pathway through the park with just my footsteps in the snow. No, I will count again ...

Dedicated to my dear friend A. R.

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