At one cold night, high on the mountains – I had an illumination of freezing light which touched my wandering soul. Near by the stream, under a full moon I seen my fading life. Like one second of breathe; a life like a path which consist many of other states of existence. Life as eternal circle of birth, knowledge and death. From the dark stars to highest mountains, from the depths of waters to lowlands and whispering caves. Our existence is inscribed into the wheel life and death in the circles of sun and the moon. Monument of blood and ashes is raised upon the epitaphs. Sacred by winds from the holy mountains, where the borderlands between cosmos and holy death (are) continued by many nights and dawns; by many drops of waterfalls and rains from light to darkness – from darkness to life. Closer to death – funeral of flesh is a dawn of fire. Only the cold grave and history remembers. Earthly existence has its meaning – by the gates of fading away. So many of cold burials, on the cemetery soil soaked with tears. The moment of fall – to the tunnel of silence, when the time and stars stops. The death of human life is only a beginning.