Poetry esse by author O'Sky (Olena Piontkovska)

Описание: Slumber of the Soul
​It is not yet death.
But is it life?
A weary soul, tired of feeling, slides into a lingering netherworld.
As if someone has turned off the sound within you, leaving only a pulsation — barely perceptible, like breathing in a dream where you cannot see yourself.
​You do not know how much time has passed.
Perhaps hours.
Perhaps years.
Everything has merged into a thick, viscous gloom, where it’s impossible to distinguish where you end and where the mere habit of being begins.
​You continue to live as usual —
rising,
moving,
eating,
speaking.
But this is not you.
The soul is as if tightly covered by something heavy and grey — like an old woollen blanket that no longer warms but stifles your breath.
It is a shell left to breathe, while the one who you are —
is drowning,
dissolving,
sleeping,
like a forgotten song at the bottom of the world.
​Sometimes in this slumber, a sudden pain weighs down — a longing for the real, the vibrant.
But nothing happens.
No light calls out.
No voice touches you.
You are like the frozen gaze of God, turned away from Himself.
​But one day —
in this dead silence
— imperceptibly —
something will stir.
Not a thought. Not a feeling. Not even a desire.
Like a shadow, a memory will flicker of what it means to be alive.
​At first, it will be a moment.
Then — a faint current in the chest.
Then — a tiny spark in the space where before there was only greyness.
You might not notice it right away, but it will be the beginning.
The first glimmer of fire, the lightning of a certain thought.
And you will remember — you will surely remember — that within you, there is a living, radiant world.