It all began out
there, among the stars...On each threshold of survival, each bulwark of
existence, the eternal music echoes in the warm crust of the magnificent, blue
Earth. Lifeless, yet it still lives; without a weather forecast and fear, it
sends its secret signals to the endless sky. Its strength is greater than
infinity. Its name is Imagination. Its last name is Wanderer. It is always
indefatigably in search of the values and truths. The value is relative. The
truth is our nightmare. Will the absolute truth, if it exists at all at least in
our imagination, satisfy our desires, or will it disappoint us to such an extent
that we hate ourselves for having discovered it? Everything is so way ahead of
us that we cannot reach it, but we can always chase that ‘something’ with our
imagination. The day will come when we will find out that our imagination is the
shortest way to the truth. And there will be more of us mortals with desires,
fears and unfulfilled dreams, and all of us will die with a slight feeling of
sadness. A lot of questions will be left behind; lots of sleepless nights spent
staring at the stars. And once again, we won’t know where we have left our
traces, we won’t know the meaning of our existence, we won’t find our homes; we
will wander through the fog searching for our homeland. It’s sad that every
existence is going to be only a memory and maybe some preserved image. The
memory will remain for eternity, but what if there is no more eternity? Only
imagination will go to eternity, taking with itself all of its secrets which
have been hidden from ignorance and short-sightedness for centuries. So, let
imagination lead us, at least sometimes, along the paths of our existence. Let’s
try to avoid sadness that oppresses us so much and makes our insignificant lives
even less significant. Let’s follow the paths of our imagination because only
the feelings buried deep inside of us can take us far away from our cruel
reality. Only imagination will survive; everything that exists outside of it is
fragile, doomed to an end. And we don’t want the end, do we?
By
imagination to the truth, author Suzana Stojanović, 01.24.2007.
۞
Sve je počelo tamo u krošnji zvezda... Na svakom pragu opstanka, na svakom bedemu postojanja odzvanja jedna večna muzika u toploj skrami lepe, plave Zemlje. Bez života a ipak živi, bez vremenske prognoze i bez straha šalje svoje tajne signale u beskraj neba. Njena je snaga veća od beskraja. Njeno ime je Mašta. Njeno prezime je Lutalica. Ona uvek neumorno traga za vrednostima i istinama. Vrednost je relativna. Istina nam je mora. Da li će, ako uopste bar u mašti postoji, apsolutna istina zadovoljiti sva naša htenja ili će nas razočarati do te mere da mrzimo sami sebe što smo je otkrili? Sve je toliko daleko ispred nas da ga ne možemo dosegnuti, ali to nešto uvek možemo maštom juriti. Doći će dan kada ćemo upravo otkriti da je naša mašta najkraći put do istine. I biće nas još mnogo smrtnika sa željama, strahovima i nedosanjanim snovima, a svi mi umiraćemo sa dozom tuge. Ostaće mnogo pitanja iza nas, mnogo neprospavanih noći sa pogledom uprtim u zvezde. I ponovo nećemo znati gde smo ostavili svoje tragove, nećemo znati smisao našega postojanja, nećemo naći svoj dom. Lutaćemo u magli za svojim zavičajem. Tužno je sto će svako postojanje biti samo sećanje i možda neka sačuvana slika. Sećanje će ostati za večnost, a šta ako više ne bude večnosti? U večnost će otputovati samo mašta i poneće sa sobom sve svoje tajne vekovima skrivane od neznanja i kratkovidosti. Zato pustimo mašti na volju da nas bar ponekad odvede putevima našeg postojanja. Pokušajmo da izbegnemo tugu koja nas toliko pritiska i naš mali život čini jos manjim. Sledimo puteve svoje mašte, jer samo nas naši duboko sakriveni osećaji mogu poneti daleko od surove stvarnosti. Samo mašta će opstati, sve što postoji van nje je krhko, osuđeno na kraj. A mi ne želimo kraj, zar ne?
Maštom do istine, autor Suzana Stojanović, 24.01.2007.
