I stand and look…

I look into the dark void…

 

Behind me — a blinding sun,

yet before me — an all-consuming darkness.

In it, the brightest ray drowns,

the warmest word grows cold,

and the firmest ground dissolves.

 

There — nothing.

The unknown, hidden by mystery.

To know what lies there, one must cross the line.

But I will not go.

I keep the Light within me — for myself and for all.

 

Or should I step in, breaking the taboo and abandoning my duty?

Go there to seize those who left and drag them back to this side?

 

No… one cannot force joy, happiness, or love.

One cannot honor the law by breaking it.

One cannot expect the right choice while denying the right to choose.

 

I have done all I could.

Everything was clear… yet he chose to go there.

 

And I?

I cannot. It is not my choice, and not mine to judge.

 

Sorrow?

Yes, I have known it…

But each time, less and less.

Going there is as much a part of the world

as living in the Light.

That does not make it good.

Nor does it make it bad.

It simply is.

 

There were times when I dragged with my last strength —

over stones and through mud,

drenched in sweat, tearing my fingers to blood —

pulling someone away from danger, from grief, from death.

 

But the outcome was not always the same,

and not always inspiring.

I know what it is — to spend everything saving someone,

only to sit beside a cooling, lifeless body.

To scream in helplessness,

tearing your voice apart,

lifting your eyes to the sky

and seeing no stars through the tears that flood everything.

 

Or to feel the blood in your veins turn into heavy, cold mercury,

freezing at the words:

“Why? No one asked you.”

 

But now… it is different.

 

Now I know that sometimes, letting go

is the greatest form of saving.

Not sustaining a life that has become empty,

but simply… releasing it.

 

It is useless, at times, to argue that a choice will bring suffering,

to prove it with foam on your lips,

to search for the right words and give rational advice…

Let the choice be made —

its consequences will speak louder than any argument.

 

This is not anger.

Nor is it punishment.

 

This, too, is love.

Yes — love.

 

To love is not an obligation to endure everything.

 

Sometimes it is a firm, silent calm,

uncomfortable words of truth,

a refusal to support sin,

or the acceptance of a choice without judgment.

 

I stand and look into the dark void…

 

Sometimes you can hear approaching steps

or a voice calling for help.

And then something inside begins to shine.

 

Like now…

 

No. Just imagination. Not now.

 

The light will come… on its own, when the time is right.

And when that time comes, I will be here.

I will meet it. I will welcome the return with joy.

 

And now…

Now I hear a small soul asking for help

in finding a lost childhood friend.

 

Engine!!!

 

I’m going.

We will find what was lost.