On a huge, horizonless oasis-beach - there was a Child. Wind lazily blew the sands off the dunes, it was almost twilight.
There was a book near the Child - true book of Wisdom.
Gazing there, the child thought tensely, trying to re-create his own story. Not everything that was written there was written for him. The knowledge of the book was just pointing a direction, the rest was to be realized by his own self.
Where did the child know it from? Children know and feel a lot of things, about which they forget after becoming mature.
Wind turned the page impatiently, telling the child, that there was enough of reading done. Time to make up his mind.
Knitting the brows, the child understood that he couldn't do anything like this. He had to relax.
He looked on the clear sky burned by the sun, smiled and his face brightened - the scheme was found.
He came closer to the pearl of oasis - a lake, sat down on the shore, and started to draw a painting with his finger. A painting on the wet sand.
It was a difficult painting filled with geometric forms.
The inner circle with a square inside, and another circle in the square. Such was the basis.
Gracefulness and depth of other lines, drawn by a child, could not be described. The closer was the painting to the finish, the louder was the silent melody, which came from inside. Light and profound, it calmed child's restless feelings down, letting him do what he wanted to.
The understanding of the Truth woke up in the eyes of the Watchers, as they gazed on the painting, which was close to an end. The knowledge searched for so long by alchemists. Everything was so simple, you just had to look at the painting.
But, what is it? What is that dark shadow, which started to appear nearby?
The shadow was like a swarm of voices. They encouraged to buy things which you don't need, travel to the places that you don't want to see, choose someone's side, look like other people, follow strange ideals. It seemed like the genuine Darkness, was the beginning of this Shadow, which wanted to divulge everything.
The Shadow came closer to the Child, but he was carried away by the face of Truth. He sat still and looked at the painting he created. All of a sudden, the painting started to glow and lift up from the sand, becoming a form of three dimensions.
The Shadow came within a hair's breadth, but the child was too busy, reaching his hands out for the three-dimensional form he created.
The Shadow touched the Child. It needed people
It took the Shadow one move to destroy the form. The Shadow smiled, and disappeared.
The three-dimensional form was no more. The melody inside of a Child disappeared as well.
He aggrievedly looked around - there was no one behind him. Wind silenced and teasing, mind-poisoning voices filled the air.
All of a sudden - the blizzard struck. The Child started to grow old.
Indomitable time took his life away, and all he could do was to obey the voices.
Mind weakened, but the soul tried to see the book he once read, and to recollect the melody he once heard.
Life flied by in a couple of moments. A noisy town was raging around, and a grown old Child was still on the beach of a little, wasty lake.
Signs around made it clear that you couldn't swim or fish there, and that the lake was contaminated.
Old Man stood leaning on a stick, and thought:
"All my life flew by obeying the voices, and now they don't need me. They just threw me away". There was not much time left and only now he started to recollect the Child he once was.
He had a deep sigh and knited his brows trying to recall something he once knew.
All at once, his face brightened.
The sky! He had to look at the sky!
With a trembling stick, he started to draw a complex form on the sand.
It is only now, he knew how it was called. Tibetan monks called it Mandala (Dkyil Khor).
All his life he tried to recall what he had lost.
With every drawn edge of the form, his spirit enlightened. And the melody! Once again he heard that melody!
Unsolved matters started to disappear one by one. The map of the Universe appeared in the complex patterns of Mandala. It shined and became three-dimensional. Planet Earth, which was the basis of the appearing painting moved away, giving place to the countless number of stars around. Some of them shined, and the Old Man felt, that there was life on these stars. He knew it because he lived there in his previous reincarnations.
The Old Man abruptly recalled something and looked behind - there was a Shadow.
His hand was placed on Mandala, his eyes were looking straight at the Shadow. Not being able to resist the power of the true Sight, the Shadow hid itself.
The Old Man looked at his hands and thought how simple it was to banish the Shadow back then...but he was so young.
Just like in his childhood, he reached out for a three-dimensional painting, which lifted up from the sand and embraced it.
Tears ran out of his eyes - if he could only notice the Shadow back then in his childhood, he wouldn't have lost that much time. Instead, he lived a life of a different man, listening to the swarm of voices, which were twisting his consciousness, and playing with his mind like with a toy. These tears were not tears of sorrow, but tears of joy, because in spite of everything, he has found himself and his path.
A flash illuminated a lake for a moment and the Old Man disappeared, leaving empty garments on the ground.
released June 21, 2012
Soundtrack by Ethereal Riffian team:
Maxim Yuchimenko "Southman" - composer
Valeriy Kornev "Stonezilla" - guitars, percussion
Alexander Kornev "SAF" - bass
Nikita Shipovskoy "Ship" - drums
Alex Lazarenko "Abu" - flute
Andrei Latik - piano
Sergey "Boukvarique" - bongos
Yaroslav Kaminskiy - didgeridoo, jaw harp
Radvil - throat singing
Dima Ganesha - sound producer
Phill Dobrov "PhillO)))" - manager
xNinjax - artwork
Recorder and mixed at Svukoceh studio
Thanks to the Free Sound Project for samples
Special thanks to Julia Turikova & Den Bambr
all rights reserved