MorePoezije

Što je jednom duhu čovjeka nepojmljivo
drugom je sasvim uobičajena rutina
ono smo što u sebi mislimo iznutra
ponašanje je kolotečina sada i sutra.

Duhovi su različiti, svaki prema svome daru
nije čovjek ničemu kriv i ne ovisi o pravu
ne može se silom mudrost staviti u glavu
kao što nebo samo uz sunce ima boju plavu.

Sinovi duha svjetlosti imaju svoje nebo
njima su misli i srce obučeni u bijelo odijelo
slobodni su od svega i svih na ovome svijetu
njima ne mogu ništa svi moćnici na planetu.

Ne ovise o novcu kojima upravljaju drugi
ne znači im elite ni svi korporacijski ljudi
zlatni kavezi ispunjeni skupim osiguranjem
vrijeme im se vrednuje kroz materijalno stanje.

Marke, brendovi, image, sve po nekom redu
dok i srce, duša i um prolaze je kroz bijedu
nemaju pogleda na ljudskost ni rane života
oni su pod povećalom kontrole, ta sramota.

Tama im obuzme stvarnost, previše izolacije
život teče na kapaljku, posljedica idolokracije
riječi se važu i mjere, tumače se pod razno
kad sve oduzmeš i zbrojiš, rezultat je prazno.

To je cijena idolatrije, odreći se samog sebe
imati klub obožavatelja, to plaćenićko pleme
od čije vriske i nektrole ne možeš proći gradom
ma koliko okružen osiguranjem, osobnim gardom.

I oni bez slave ili pak slavom nečijom opijeni
pristaju na sve i svašta da bi bili zaneseni
jer duše lako razabiru dobro i zlo, veoma tečno
mogu odijeliti što je zapravo dobro, a time vječno.

S ljubavlju, Željka.

Autor: Željka Šabić

What is incomprehensible to one human spirit
is entirely ordinary routine to another,
we are what we think within ourselves,
behavior is a pattern, today and tomorrow.

Spirits differ, each according to their gift,
man is not to blame for anything, nor bound by law,
wisdom cannot be forced into one’s mind,
just as the sky is blue only with the sun.

The sons of the spirit of light have their own sky,
their thoughts and hearts are dressed in white,
they are free from everything and
everyone in this world,
all the powerful on this planet
can do nothing to them.

They do not depend on money controlled by others,
elites and corporate figures mean nothing to them,
golden cages filled with expensive security,
their time is valued through material status.

Brands, labels, image—everything in order,
while heart, soul, and mind pass through poverty,
they have no view of humanity or life’s wounds,
they live under the magnifying
glass of control—what a shame.

Darkness overtakes their reality, too much isolation,
life drips slowly by, a result of idolatry,
words are weighed and measured,
interpreted in many ways,
when all is taken and summed up,
the result is emptiness.

That is the price of idolatry—to renounce oneself,
to have a fan club, that paid tribe,
whose screams and frenzy block your
path through the city,
no matter how surrounded by
security and personal guards.

And those without fame,
or intoxicated by someone else’s,
agree to anything just to feel carried away,
for souls can easily discern good and evil, clearly,
they can separate what is
truly good—and thus eternal.

With love, Željka.

Author: Željka Šabić