Читать книгу Another version - Anastasia Volnaya - Страница 11

The golden month colored with the light of the beauty of the night. How beautiful is the darkness that contains the light! The glass angel, standing on the windowsill, was surrounded by a halo of light reflected in it, as if alive, as if animated, he sounded a hymn to the light in his little horn. The heart of darkness is light. Who believed in darkness? This phantom, myth? Darkness doesn’t exist. There is no darkness. Just as there is no death. Darkness is a canvas under the colors of light. Death is a step to a new life. The glass angel will break someday, but the light that once filled it is eternal. And the anthem that is played on a small horn will always sound.