White

It's white snow,
It's white light,
It's the White Face.
This is Light of Fire,
Light of my soul.
This is God's Light.
I am standing,
You are standing,
We are standing:
Someone with Fire,
Someone with a sword.
He sees everything
And nothing is hidden from His sight.

New day

There are many snow  in the field.
It's white, too white.
My horse trots across the field
And her shadow vanishes in light.
The clatter sounds in infinity space.
The bells prophesies to me.
New day brings the God's grace
And peace descends on me.

Cat story (16)

- The mice want my death. They want to poison me. They want war and they will get it! - my cat said.
- Why do you think that they want your death?
- I know, - my cat had a pig-headed look.
- Do you have proof?
- No, but I am sure they are at fault.
- Why?
- Because they are the mice. All mice want a cat's death. The greater the threat, the greater is the risk of inaction – and the more compelling the case for taking anticipatory action to defend ourselves, even if uncertainty remains as to the time and place of the enemy’s attack.
- Are you sure the mice will be love you after your strike? - I felt sorry for him.
- I need not love. Let they fear me to I could have a long life, - the cat smiled.