«Today outside the window is not just snow — it's silence trying to soothe the pain. When the world around us trembles from the roar of war, it's so hard to allow yourself to think about light... about peaceful days that now seem like a fairy tale from a past life. We've all become solitary islands drifting in the sea of our own suffering, each in our own boat, each under their own sky.
But it is in this numbness, when the mind seeks quiet shores, that we suddenly feel: life has not stopped. It has simply changed form. Now our hope is not in loud words, but in barely noticeable fractals of love, in the warmth we keep for each other despite the cold shine of blockchains and the frozen graphs of fate.
— to live, above all. To build your temple where others see only ruins. And may this sonnet be a sip of that very red wine that warms the soul in the darkest night, reminding: We hold on to the light...
Fractals of love
The graphs have bent... like the branches of strange herbs.
Coin cascades — like the path of stars in the blockchain.
And outside the window... a white flock of snowflakes,
In the chase of numbers — the fire does not lose.
There, in the worlds where wonder-flowers bloom...
Where each of those fractals is a sign of love,
We learn... to live with simple hope,
Dispersing sorrow and the nightly darkness.
Let there be cold and discord around...
We will build our own, bright temple,
Where feelings overcome all traffic jams.
For in the numbers that fly like a flash,
Love is the only true measure...
That warms us in these finales.