When from the birth of the Father,
And wisdom shares with his son in half,
To overpower young minds,
Not immediately, gradually
And the genealogy to continue the thread,
In the fact that you already know how,
But you do not.
That experience fixing,
We direct the Father's hand,
Filling in the temple of the soul,
I want to listen
But only the Father alone decides,
Which does not interfere.
What is true, what is false,
Where are the faces, and where the masks are.
And where is His creation,
That on Sunday,
As a prophecy,
Wonderful we see creativity.
How much I sometimes want,
But all the same I am silent
Since birth in a shirt,
Before the Father, the kneeling,
But already humble,
Your eternal disciple is permanent.
Your prodigal son and slave,
Who is so weak without the Father.
One Creator -
And we are only apprentices,
After living so many years, but only now I understood.
Know how to see the good. A scoundrel and in the open field dump looks.
Sometimes I think, why does the Lord send me so many trials? And then I cut off this thought, with the words: "Save the Lord for Thy Grace!"
She was so beautiful that I dreamed of her all my life. And then she came. Old age. And he dreamed of wisdom.
Scarcity is not always a weakness of mind. Sometimes it is the power of laziness.