New Age Threshold - Part II

V.V.P. : - Pray tell me, Fyodor, how are you?

Fyodor : - The fate has stacked us with glue!

V.V.P. : -  Oh yes, I see … and that’s fine then! Shall we watch events once again?

Fyodor : - Or we can simply talk a lot … and share what’s going on and hot!

V.V.P. : - The spring is coming, snow’s no more …

Fyodor : - And once again my spirit soar!

V.V.P. : - How is the height? And what’s the speed? And is the sign in heavens lit?

Fyodor : - I have no knowledge of my height … Yet speed increases own grade …

V.V.P. : - I am so happy, poet-friend, that we for now are in same band!

Fyodor : - There is no reason now to flatter … to wake up sleepers - so much better.

V.V.P. :- Through verses telling of the things, and waving own hands like wings?

Fyodor :- Of wondrous times we are still ringing, and bird from skies to us still singing, with each her song we know bit more, so let us learn her hidden lore.

V.V.P. :- We are together - I am glad. Let’s once again pour the flood!

Fyodor :- Strange flood’s approaching worthy nations … enlightenment that’s and inspiration!

V.V.P. :- Heed our speech, my watcher, then. Life’s closing circle once again!

Fyodor  :- The altitude does differ, though. Away from fire shadows flow.

V.V.P. :- Without fire life is dark.

Fyodor :- So let’s give watcher at least spark. A river of times is flowing in spring for them to awaken in eye’s blink.

V.V.P. :- Awakened warriors we’ve got! What’s their numbers?

Fyodor :- Quite a lot?

V.V.P. :- I guess there could be more of them?

Fyodor :- Someone preferred to go in lam.

V.V.P. :- We’ll fight alongside ones, who’ve come.

Fyodor :- And make the viewer silent-stunned.

V.V.P. :- Let’s go, oh camera, go live! Ivan is going on the strife!

Fyodor :- Ivan in going in the sky just like a fighter on the fly …

V.V.P. :- He's fighting now with prejudice!

Fyodor :- But have no feathers, just us, guys.

V.V.P. :- And add the wings to absence list - but still he’s sky apologist.

Fyodor :- He’ll gain those in Thin World rather and bath himself then in the ether?

V.V.P. :- It’s hard to be like Angel, guy, your soul must be on the fly.

Fyodor :- True wings are granted by the God?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us the funny plot!

Camera together with Ivan (or maybe Ivan together with a camera?) rush away from film-making studio, winding on corridors for a long time, evading on its way from scurrying here and there employees, who are at the sight of camera (or maybe Ivan instead?) quite unambiguously smile and concede roads; then, finally, flies by at the opening door on a fresh air. It’s clearly visible how a camera then turns by a semicircle, speeds up and starts winding through capital’s streets, having risen by level of the third or fourth floor of houses in order to evade side effects of possible collisions with even less ambiguously smiling lower-walking passers-by. After about three minutes before televiewers a scene of recently build up shopping center opens up, and camera, having accurately entered in formed at opening of entrance doors armholes, finally freezes as though in indecision state.

A picture of truly epic scale reveals before the audience : entire hall, as far as the look suffices, is full of people making a din and scurrying-about here and there, on backs of which pairs of wings of white, black, pink, green, orange, gray, gray-brown-crimson-in-a-speck colors are fixed. Lots of girls do coquettishly try on themselves the next pair of wings, gracefully flaunting in front of mirrors; as if in revenge some young men try to pinch them from time to time for these very most newly acquired wings; here and there exclamations of type “And do these white ones fit me well?”, “And those pinkish I’ll present to my girlfriend!”, “In them you look more like a devil!”,”I welcome thee, Emo-Angel!”, “Gimme two!” and the like. The picture intrigues and bewitches one greatly.

Fyodor :- What are they doing there, my!

V.V.P. :- The wings of Angels do they buy!

Fyodor :- Like them they want to look at least, and have engaged in fair’s feast?

V.V.P. :- Everyone desired so when Ivan was on the go!

Fyodor :- They search for wings as if guru?

V.V.P. :- And cry aloud “Gimme two!”

Fyodor :- There are wings of color black?!

V.V.P. :- For those whose soul’s on wrong track.

Fyodor :- And even those of color pink …

V.V.P. :- It’s quite an honor, don’t you think?

Fyodor :- You’ve got a humor in the stock! And what is that?

V.V.P. :- It’s winged dog!

Fyodor :- And even horse these wings has gain?!

V.V.P. :- Pegasus flying in the rain!

Fyodor :- It’s sort of miracle as such …

V.V.P. :- I do agree, so don’t you touch!

Fyodor :- Ivan’s no doubt, lucky one!

V.V.P. :- And more skills are yet to come. He’s our curiosity with all verbosity!

Fyodor :- I am so happy for that man! Flying’s is part of Divine Plan.

V.V.P. :- Into the Garden we will go … the road is shining with new glow.

Fyodor :- Someone will enter, others not. The battle’s getting more hot.

V.V.P. :- I pity those still doing crime. Just like American marine …

Fyodor :- How USA is living, yes?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us this teaching mess!

As if having found second wings, let it even be somewhat artificial, in reality, Ivan in unity with a camera and his great desire leaves chock-full pavilion with Not-So-Angels and sharply soars up to the clouds. For a short instant the camera appears to be blinded by beams of a rising sun, and then the audience can behold for some time gentle curly-headed cloudlets-lambs and flying by flights of pigeons. Then all of a sudden the camera dives down, cutting clouds and having frightened off the next flock of totally not guilty of anything birds, and depressing in the monotone picture reveals before televiewers.

Wherever you look - everywhere there are dilapidated and almost depopulated cities with rickety houses and beaten-out glasses, through streets of which  winds keeps walking and rolling goodness know where from brought tumbleweed and other not taken out from fire chestnuts. From time to time through this or that street some figure rushes on, bearing a faint resemblance to human, yet by its habits and appearance more resembling Neanderthal men. Sometimes silent abuse comes off from Ivan’s side, along with advices to be cleaned from “this burial ground of stinking macaques” as quicker as possible. The picture, revealing before televiewers indeed partly reminds a cemetery, in which survived ones didn’t still manage to put things in order yet, or are already totally incapable of doing so independently. It all forms a feeling as though this continent was recently visited either by a huge natural disaster, or not less destructive by its consequences social act of terrorism. The picture depresses and leaves extremely burdensome impression on Soul.

Fyodor :- Who are these? Some sort of monkeys?

V.V.P. :- Sir, look closer, these are Yankees!

Fyodor :- Faces covered with fear?

V.V.P. :- Their fall is coming near!

Fyodor :- Many covered with fur, no escape from own moor?

V.V.P. :- Those, who have abandoned God, doomed themselves to groan and rot.

Fyodor :- Yankees must repentance feel …

V.V.P. :- They are killing others still …

Fyodor :- Who will them accept abroad? Poor fates for now they’ve got!

V.V.P. :- All worthy ones will make through sea, what for the rest - I cannot see …

Fyodor :- Oh, what a pitiful the end! A fitting end for continent.

V.V.P. :- Capitalism made them like mad. Feodalism now welcomes, lad!

Fyodor :- They are dividing quickly so … how many “kingdoms” in the row?

V.V.P. :- Just like as many as the states … Run overseas all Wall Street’s mates!

Fyodor :- No one escapes the Justice Law!

V.V.P. :- Feel no repentance? It means … oh …

Fyodor :- Those ones escaping from the fate will more trouble only bait.

V.V.P. :- Ships may think without link … of your actions one must think!

Fyodor :- Look what Yankees brought on them …

V.V.P. :- Nature’s wrath is like a ram! Whirlwinds and tsunamis maybe coming from the seas …  

Fyodor :- This is quite instructive, yes … evil ones are making mess.

V.V.P. :- Quite long ago it has been told. Still people strife for wealth and gold.

Fyodor :- They are the lesson for this world, ones who rejected divine chord …

V.V.P. :- This nation bears own guilt … and hate like poison makes them wilt.

Fyodor :- Their brother-Jew … what of these ones?

V.V.P. :- Ivan, show us those “chosen” sons.

Once again having sadly sighted directly into the camera, Ivan sighs with relief and soars under heavens once again, and, being guided by reference points known only to him, flies straight in the direction of a sacred hail, because of which sanctity there was so much human blood, probably not so sacred, spilled already. On approaching, however, it becomes obvious that the sky over Jerusalem is densely covered with black-gray clouds, here and there lightnings are sparkling, illuminated dark horizon, and heavy rain has already started. Either a mind abuse or Ivan’s caustic snicker can be heard in the camera, and she, camera, starts of become covered by more than live drops of moisture. Then, however, the hand of operator waves before televiewers, which in all its immense power with ease wipes the camera in a flash of time, and unambiguously exposes to everyone its thumb, raised vertically up.

Five more seconds passes and before looking into their TV screens auditory a shocking unprepared watcher view opens itself: it’s clearly visible how large masses of people gathered before sorrowly known Wailing Wall and in some sort of drunk waste, more, however, reminding frenzied despair, are bashing their heads against this so sorrowly known wall. They are hitting it, however, not so strongly and seriously, because no a single one from them, as the look suffices, bears no visible signs of a blow with own forehead. Deaf sounds “bom!” accompanied by high shrieks “Ai!”, “Ouch!” and even “Eh time, one more time!” fill space. The picture reminds an attempt of national public repentance not the most original way. Drops of moisture, beating about a pavement, complete this pitiable picture of crying.

V.V.P. :- Just look, my friend, at Wailing Wall - the Jews are “paying” their toll!

Fyodor :- Oh my! With heads they are bashing walls! Is that the way to reach their goals?

V.V.P. :- They beat themselves like in frenzy, for long have been living in the lie…

Fyodor :- A heaven’s fire fell on town, and “chosen” one was stripped of crown?

V.V.P. :- Was making money all the way … and thus become their own prey.

Fyodor :- Water with fire will cleanse all, thought it was not their own goal.

V.V.P. :- What do you think of them, my friend, what is the future of this land?

Fyodor :- Here’s my thought without catch - for greed of some we need a patch.

V.V.P. :- There are wolves among the lambs …

Fyodor :- In USA wolves built their tombs!

V.V.P. :- Their guns are useless all for now, in own traps they steadily fall.

Fyodor :- When conscience dropped in the urn, the sun’s becoming hot and burn?

V.V.P. :- Whose speech is brutal, full of hate may know what role sun plays in fate.

Fyodor :- Without nature one lives not. What of officials and their sort?

V.V.P. :- I’m afraid they aren’t glad.

Fyodor :- I didn’t get it - what is that?

V.V.P. :- Without money thieves went mad.

Fyodor :- And what of those who stole not much?

V.V.P. :- For their wealth they tried to clutch.

Fyodor :- Can this be seen in color mode?

V.V.P. :- A nice cutscene we have got.

Fyodor :- And that reply is quite unclear.

V.V.P. :- Oh yes, we’ll see, ‘cause it’s quite near.

Camera soars up again, taking off from a zone of black clouds, and sets course for a Moscow. After a short duration still recently black sky suddenly lights up with sunshine, patches of which light starts playing here and there on lens only known to them chords. Through totally short time before televiewers the image of St. Basil’s Cathedrals flows out in a real time, and the panorama of Red Square reveals from a bird’s flight height. It’s clearly visible how along specified square under a military escort all first officials of the state, who have now become the last ones, are moving, spitefully looking around on by no means loyal to them military forces and celebrating people. From the site of aforementioned last ones obscene abuses and promises “to restore justice” can be overheard - what sort of justice they are talking about, however, isn’t known. Escorts periodically kick them, helping to get into the prepared armored vans under encouraging exclamations of standing nearby people. On faces of thieves of Russian State, departing into exile, a totally genuine mix of fear, surprise, melancholy and disappointment can been distinguished. By all means it’s obvious that they surely didn’t expected such sort of ending.

Fyodor :- I see they all now in the run, without power, with no fun?

V.V.P. :- Official fell from all the tops with little help from Russian cops!

Fyodor :- He made a monument of him …

V.V.P. :- It didn’t honored him, it seem.

Fyodor :- His end I think is rather dim …

V.V.P. : - Comedy ended, here’s “fin”.

Fyodor :- He is escaping oversea, but cannot hide and cannot flee.

V.V.P. :- And all good men do live in hope … this inner robbery has stopped.

Fyodor :- And what is that? They are groaning “no” but in Siberia still go?

V.V.P. :- They are leaving Kremlin in the tracks, abusing all with useless “fuck”s!

Fyodor :- I will show nothing like respect before those Kremlin-thieves-sect …

V.V.P. :- They’ve been exiled in distant lands for Russia’s tired of these “bands”.

Fyodor :- What, check and mate? It’s just in time! I’m overjoyed in the rhyme!

V.V.P. :- The second escort do you see?

Fyodor :- These liberals will not get free!

V.V.P. :- Both parties cursing each one, well … and moving now in parallel …

Fyodor :- Just look at how they blame each other! To curses I won’t listen rather!

V.V.P. :- They will have great time together … I will not watch “reunion” rather!

Fyodor :- I have all reasons to believe! Woe to traitors and to thieves …

V.V.P. :- Once common men exiled they, but life now offered mirrored way!

Fyodor :- The Russia’s pillage will not last! Where is the axe from former “past”?

V.V.P. :- Oh no, drop weapons, wars don’t rock!

Fyodor :- It is, my friend, was sort of joke. My hero once was axe-bearer, but time of change is coming near, so he is now with blade of word …

V.V.P. :- It’s such a wonderful accord!

Fyodor :- In ranks of friends, and in due time, this time I’m battling with a rhyme!

V.V.P. :- The Maker gave this great gift?

Fyodor :- The souls of others it can lift!

V.V.P. :- That honor’s great without doubt …

Fyodor :- And epochs starting their new round …

V.V.P. :- The clouds of darkness are no more … but can you see what lies afore?

Fyodor :- The Russia will awake from sleep, inspired again, no longer sick.

V.V.P. :- The beast is crawling back in hole …

Fyodor :- The spring is coming, spring for all!

V.V.P. :- All cockroaches run from light, for do thrive only in the blight …

Fyodor :- The house Landlord is now here - and kind ones should feel never fear.

V.V.P. :- The light is burning thieves’ backs, their minds do spin with consciousness “crack”s.

Fyodor :- I see the Russia’s hoping all. What’s with Saxons?

V.V.P. :- They paid their toll.

Fyodor :- You mean they cursed their banks?

V.V.P. :- I mean they’ve put on aqualungs!

Fyodor :- For long time they’ve been hating us … is the Atlantis better thus?

V.V.P. :- No longer they have their home. The England, well … it’s sort of … gone.

Fyodor :- Empire fell with awful smell?

V.V.P. :- And shouldn’t it? The water, well …

Fyodor :- Oh my, you mean they had to dive and swim away to save their life?

V.V.P. :- The nature gave reply to crimes, from the “third world” they are sucking “fines” …

Fyodor :- What is that light in such dense fog?

V.V.P. :- It’s Scotland’s fire! These guys rock!

Fyodor :- They truly are the mountains sons!

V.V.P. :- The world is changing with no guns…

Fyodor :- All fools believed that life is still.

V.V.P. :- The speed of change they will soon feel!

Fyodor :- The inner wisdom never sleeps … I would prefer to watch your tips.

Kremlin Square starts quickly disappearing from sight, getting smaller and smaller, leaving one with a pride in a soul for the Russian people, camera starts winding of streets and suddenly stops before some large capital library, before gates of which a true and real fire is burning! Its borders and limits are, however, being successfully controller by passing here and there processions with torches, who help to burn the pilled-up paper waste and supervise that ashes of her shabby knowledge weren’t carried by a blowing wind too far on the world. On faces of participants of procession it’s possible to notice a surprising mix of grief and inner joy at the same time. Periodically here and there war-calls in the spirit of “Burn right and bright, let’s end the blight!” can be overheard. Action intrigues, shocks and bewitches strenuously and practically unstoppably.

Fyodor :- What sort of field there burns?

V.V.P. :- They are throwing textbooks in the urns!

Fyodor :- To hear inner wisdom’s voice they had to make such funny choice?

V.V.P. :- All rubbish knowledge is like ash, so lots of theories have crashed.

Fyodor :- The joy of life the Maker gives … yet not to traitors, not to thieves.

V.V.P. :- The time has come for us to fly. Still move in cars … don’t we feel shy?

Fyodor :- The cars can still have reason, yes, but shall be changed by progress.

V.V.P. :- Another type of fuel here, no more oil, wars and fear.

Fyodor :- Let Earth take finally some rest. Those new inventions are the best.

V.V.P. :- No scientific idle wander, spiritual science is like thunder.

Fyodor :- For if there is just mind plus greed, for bombs then we are planting seed.

V.V.P. :- No longer mankind making bombs, no more digging catacombs.

Fyodor :- And what with these that have been made?

V.V.P. :- Theirs only fate is to degrade.

Fyodor :- What do you mean? Again in fight?!

V.V.P. :- No way! One sees his soul’s might!

Fyodor :- I have been almost terrified. Deserve they honor by the right!

V.V.P. :- And tons of metal are now free … where will they use it, we shall see!

Fyodor :- They melt all cannons and know not where would that metal all be brought?

V.V.P. :- They’ve dug that metal quite a lot applying wrongly with no thought.

Fyodor :- And now it’s time for worthy goal. The greedy one pays double toll!

V.V.P. :- Oh yeah, one thing I find quite funny - how will they pay without money?

Fyodor :- With little money little gore?

V.V.P. :- All money gone, they are no more!

Fyodor :- Is this some sort of New World’s charter?

V.V.P. :- Good times of innocence and barter!

Fyodor :- One never knows they ways of fates! And what of currencies and rates?

V.V.P. :- Without them still people thrive. But at how those brokers live!

It’s obvious that heavenly apologist Ivan very reluctantly says goodbye to contemplation of burning fields of shabby books, so bewitching the sight of unprepared viewer, but, nevertheless, curiosity together with a call of duty finally prevails, and he, having waved a hand to all torches procession, and shouted to them something like “Hasta la vista!”, for one another time soars up to heavens like a free bird. He continues for some time to habitually wind of city streets at level of the third of fourth floor of buildings, and then with a gallop if, certainly, such a term is even applicable to such sort of movement, flies into the opened door of the currency exchange building.

Straight off it becomes clear that senseless vanity which once filled this senseless institution sank into oblivion in no time, for the rats, creeping here and there on parquets, have become practically the main inhabitants of this institution, as well as some individuals of doubtful degree of rationality with sad looks on their faces, periodically bursting in cries like “Blue counters, blue counters, they are the gingerbreads for money launders!”, “Will lend for five and take for three, I shall be reach, oh you will see!”, “Bulls and bears are not pears … run away … back off, I say!”. Similar chaos is supplemented by scattered here and there packs of cash of most different forms and coloring, on some on which aforementioned rats have already managed to make their notes. In general this picture leaves a strongly feeling of a madhouse which was left by all medics already along with the majority of their patients, excluding the most persistent ones from the second group.

Fyodor :- Is that too good, is that too bad? It’s like a house for the mad!

V.V.P. :- The parasites did crawl here … now crocodiles cry with tears.

Fyodor :- In kindergarten they should go who orchestrated “money flow”.

V.V.P. :- They are descending and know not … their desires make greed hot.

Fyodor :- They have been warned long ago, but didn’t change their spirit’s “flow”.

V.V.P. :- Let’s stop beholding their fate … no more course, no more rate …

Fyodor :- Back then to churchmen? No, no reasons.

V.V.P. :- Some men did leave the cages of prisons!

Fyodor :- Those ones without great crimes were given work to pay the “fines”?

V.V.P. :- Who Divine Law have understood, expiate crimes in work for good.

Fyodor :- Each one will show what holds inside … humility forges roads for right.

V.V.P. :- Let’s hope they have sufficient time, and their demons are in decline.

Fyodor :- Guardian Angel each one has got, listen to them to feel divine accord.

V.V.P. :- Many of them that will soon understand.

Fyodor :- What of the poets in our land?

V.V.P. :- They sing in joyful, happy rhymes, and give us prophecies at times!

Fyodor :- Songs of birds are very pretty!

V.V.P. :- To the forest! Leave the city!

Ivan suddenly bursts in victorious shout “Yahoo!” and takes off away from the root paper nervous-doing, gradually increasing his height as if trying to leave this city as quickly as ever possible. And finally before televiewers forests start floating above, camera sharply dives down and as though hangs on a branch of one of pines. Ten seconds after it becomes obvious that Ivan simply sat down on a fly on the of a tree, which has attracted his attention, just like a classical bird. Thirty seconds later silent joyful whistling reaches audience, ones of definitely human genesis. A view of a wood clearing and the slice of the sky opens before televiewers, which has appeared in a lens of a television camera just in time. It seems that Ivan’s pensive and spring mood was transferred even to the dictor.

V.V.P. :- We shall live not as we did once!

Fyodor : - Let’s sing like birds and then have dance!

V.V.P. : - Is that the pigeon of the peace?

Fyodor : - And don’t forget the goose, oh please.

V.V.P. : - I see you like the birds as shown.

Fyodor : - They are harbingers of the dawn.

V.V.P. : - Oh yes, so close they are to skies …

Fyodor : - The cocks - you hear - are on the rise?

V.V.P. : - The cock is sort of battle bird!

Fyodor : - Like nightingale, as of sort.

V.V.P. : - Ah, nightingale, that’s the singer!

Fyodor : - As if in warning cuckoo ringer …

V.V.P. : - The hawk has fallen to the ground. Decaying … now it is ants round …

Fyodor : - I will not find the proper words, describing fate of predatory birds.

V.V.P. : - And for the foxes there are dogs.

Fyodor : - Keep arrows ticking of the clocks.

V.V.P. : - And tiny birds make wondrous show!

Fyodor : - And streams of River of Times keep flow.

V.V.P. : - The time has reached another peak. Indigo Children - that’s the kick?

Fyodor : - I care not for our names. The end has come for hatred games!

V.V.P. : - And that is now without doubt! We’ll meet again?

Fyodor : - I will be proud.