There is no death, there is only Sunday

< Felix Komarov



There is no death, there is a Sunday.
But do not hold this meaning in mind,
After all, the light does not disappear with
shadow And do not burn it in the fire.

The mind itself - only the contour of the shade,
He shares the darkness and the light.
But not now comprehend the revelations,
The question does not have an answer.

The world of black and white, binary code,
As the cross hairs of the cross.
And will not help speaking bird,
When the sky empty.

On it hang with no regrets,
Neither winning nor losing.
And at noon the shadows disappear,
I was like a shadow, with a pick up.