MichaelSichok

The Snow Falls Upon Mother Russia

The snow falls upon Mother Russia,

And I am there; the revitalization I feel in the silence of your white ashes, falling upon my black leather astound me, how I wish you were here tomorrow and evermore.

The sun, a bright burning plague to my eyes has been darkened; the endless summer months of humidity and sweat, snuffed; It is your softly falling beauty which inspires me, and to that I am thankful.

I will never see the missiles, nor the tanks of your November 7th parade; the age of the Soviet is now history, except in the hearts of heritage. The cold, the snow; it does something special within my heart, it transcends time, place, history.

For when the snows fall, it is Red Square, it is the dawn of REVOLUTION! My ancestors, my heritage, spread across your continent... from the homeland through Czechloslovakia; I am conscious, aware. I am proud of those that have fallen before me, confident that I will live to your dreams.

For I have dreams of my own, and shall not forget the roots of my existence. Let the snows fall, heavy, white and beautiful; I will not complain, I will listen and watch with reverence, pride and familiarity.

I am all that I have ever been.

25/10/05

Posted by MichaelSichok at October 25, 2005 11:26 PM