My Writings

The Seeker

Artwork: Tea Velizarova

The spark burst into streams of fire – falling from up high and disappearing, resurrecting themselves – I was the spark. They flew down – hissing – burning traces in my eyes – they remained inside of me. That fire was sent to warm me up, not to burn – my being.

In the perfect moment – having stood still, frozen in the Nothing, in Time – I landed – in myself – and assumed that pose. For the beholder I remained entirely motionless, seemingly dead, but inside of me life did sleep. It slept and in its dreams it hit its forehead, trying to remember. He found that he always knew who he was, even when he wasn’t himself, even when he walked against himself. He found that his seeking was in vain – the divagation – the time and space between him – and the truth. I was the Truth. I was the Seeker.

Truth lived in me, because He sowed it in me. I lived to search for him – along the path, which he himself drew for me. He brought her to me – he brought me to her. We ignited each other – our eyes – met each other in the fire, and to this day we see him as one. In that perfect moment our faces froze, stood still in a pose, as if they were bowing down to him. Our minds were bowing down, as were our souls. I took her with me, so that our eyes may become mirrors, and the light – reflected from me to her – and vice versa – is Him.

He sent her to warm me up, and me – her. The voice in me that sang for him, is not alone anymore. That is how I tore myself apart – a part of me inside of me, another – with her, inside of her.

That is how I found myself.


оригинален български текст

Искрата пламна в огнени струи – спускащи се отвисоко и чезнещи, прераждащи се – аз бях искрата. Полетяха надолу – съскащи – прогарящи следи в очите ми – те останаха в мен. Тоя огън беше пратен, за да ме сгрее, не да изгори – съществото ми.

В съвършеният миг – застинал, изстинал в Нищото, във Времето – аз се приземих – в себе си – и заех тая поза. За наблюдателя останах съвсем неподвижен, привидно мъртъв, но в мене спеше живота. Спеше и насън удряше челото си в опит да си спомни. Откри, че винаги е знаел кой е, дори когато не е бил на себе си, дори когато е вървял срещу себе си. Откри, че търсенето му е било напразно – лутането – времето и пространството между него – и истината. Аз бях Истината. Аз бях Търсещият.

В мен живя истината, понеже Той я посади. Аз живях, за да го търся – по пътя, който сам начерта за мене. Той я доведе при мене – доведе мене до нея. Възпламенихме се – очите ни – срещнали се в огъня, и ведно го виждаме и днес. В тоя съвършен миг лицата ни изстинаха, застинаха в поза, сякаш му се кланяха. Умовете ни се кланяха, както и душите. Аз я взех със себе си, за да са огледала очите ни, а светлината – отразяваща се от мене в нея – и обратно – е Той.

Тоя я прати, за да ме сгрее, а аз – нея. Гласът в мене, който пя за него, вече не е сам. Така разкъсах себе си – една част в мене, една – с нея, в нея.

Така открих себе си.

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