You, Stranger. You. Poem by Eugenia Dubinova

One has to accept the times of no lights coming from the seashore.
One has to accept that pain can stand taller and paralyze the gentle heart of a stranger.
One has to accept the mirage of a starry night, mirrored in the wet eyes, house ablaze behind.

One, though, always has someone behind—unseen and unpronounceable. A loving shade of no physical nature.
One has himself.

Let the warm sun heal one. Let the meadows absorb his tears so they can give birth to new meadows. Nature supporting nature in all nurturing tenderness.
Let the heavens come touch his chest and give him hope.
From my chest, I will give you hope, I will give you love; I am none other than the heavens.
And the heavens are no different from the one.

One has to accept the lonely path with tunnels of vast darkness.
And when one understands that darkness naturally can't preserve totality, light will love darkness, and darkness will cherish the light.
You, stranger. You.