|Magic of fairy tales|
Do you believe the fairy Tale?
Sadness, spreading in the earthly world, makes our souls more susceptible, to the fine Fleur dreams above the gray wretchedness of the human being.
At the time when our souls have subtle wings, when we were in the rosy light of the immense Childhood and adult people hidden from us the existence in this world of Death, any lack of conformity of the original (invented by the us? incorporated in the us?) Harmony deeply hurt us...
Adult people told fairy tales to us.
Adult people read fairy tales to us.
Adult people tried to longer hold us in a viscous captivity tales...
It may therefore be we are so infantile (in the best sense of this word), so open and trusting, even having gone through the crucible of war, that our parents kept trees of our children's souls from the cold breath of the twilight reality, in which were their souls?
They kept us, children, in the dark, we almost didn't hear anything either about the FORCED EVICTION, nor about THE ENDLESS BLOODY CHAIN OF HUMILIATION, which is connected generation and generation Nokhchy.
May be it protect us from many are not diagnosed phobias, worsening no less difficult to diagnostics mental disorders...
It saved our souls from the web servility, which swaddle the wings of the soul in embryonic cocoon of social homunculus.
In any case, the instinctive keeping us under the parent wing allowed our souls grow stronger.
What we, the present of almost forty years, were able to give OUR CHILDREN?
They were born in the bloody chaos of war.
They felt smelly the breath of DEATH.
They have seen DEATH.
They have known DEATH.
They were the victims of the world, which had become for them a flaming spiral of natural Hell.
We were not able to become for them the PARENTS.
We could not protect them FROM ANYTHING.
They are OLDER us.
(As it was in the beginning adults of his earthly journey our parents, just know the REALITY.)
In his pink skin age of our children is harder than us by the spirit, wiser than us, spiritually above than us.
They have known the earth life.
In something they more pragmatic and hard-hearted .
In something farseeing.
And all the same they are CHILDREN.
Because no satanic tricks be able kill in their hearts the MEMORY OF the HEAVENLY HOME, the MEMORY OF the ORIGINAL GOOD.
But because read your children stories.
Let them believe them.
Free their souls from the scabs adult pain.
Let tiny lumps of their hearts wash light tears... not of sorrow, heartfelt compassion. This brings up the fineness of perception.
Let our children will hear the celestial sounds of Aeolian harp.
Let they hear Poetry of the world.
As we have heard in the childhood, in a secluded corners of their children's rooms weeping uncontrollably over the sad fate of Andersen Mermaid or Tin Soldier.
Read your children stories.
I warrant the best way to psychological regeneration in our parent's Arsenal is not yet available.
Read them fairy tales.