О суетности и неверности жизни, и об общем всем конце

I would like to become either a light-winged dove, or a swallow, to escape from human life, or to settle in some desert, and live in the same shelter with animals; because they are more faithful than people. There I would like to spend my one-day life without tears, without fear of punishment and without worries; to have one advantage over beasts - a mind that knows the Divine and is non-divine. There, in the midst of a calm life, I would gather light to the light, or, climbing to the top of some high pillar, I would loudly begin to cry out to those living on earth: Mortal men, the product of expired moisture, you insignificant ones, who, living by death, are puffed up with vain things! How long will you, remaining a playground of false and waking dreams, and playing with them, wander on earth without a goal? Look, having ascended in your mind above everyone else, just as I have ascended, because God has placed in me great knowledge of what is useful and harmful; and above all, the mind soars. He was fresh and strong, was the glory of his friends, carried his head high and had well-stocked flexible limbs. He was a beautiful morning dawn, the spring color between men, and attracted everyone’s gaze. He is famous for his exploits; the one in arms is Ares; that most excellent fighter with beasts on the lists, and measured glory with them on the mountains. He took care of feasts and luxurious dinners; land, sea and air brought tribute to his belly. But now he is wrinkled and decrepit; everything has bloomed; old age came, and beauty flew away; the womb refused to serve; a small part of a person remains alive, but a much larger part has already gone to the grave. He is puffed up by learning of every kind; he thinks highly of the magnificent tombs of his nobility, or that he, too, managed to inscribe his blood in small scrolls; he is magnified by the strength of his councils in the cities, by the fact that his name is on everyone’s lips; he has collected immeasurable wealth, and is still increasing it in his mind; he, sitting on a high seat, admires the scales of justice given to him; he in scarlet clothing and withered on his brow, holding power on earth, puts heaven itself at nothing, and although mortal, he is puffed up with non-mortal hopes. - All this is now; and after a while - dust; slaves and sceptron-bearers, mercenaries and those proud of wealth - all will become equal, for all there is one darkness, one monastery, and the proud have one advantage, that the crying above them is louder, their tomb is more magnificent, and the gravestone inscription is kept longer on the pathetic stone. Sooner or later, but every mortal has an equal lot. Finally, all that will remain is fragile, half-decayed bones and a bare skull. The pomp is over; but poverty is no longer bothered by labor, unknown illness, hatred, extravagance, desire for more, indomitable impudence. Everything has died, everything has been imprisoned, together with the dead, until the time when it goes from here to follow the resurrected. Seeing all this, listen to my advice, children (I can call you children, because I’ve been catching my breath on earth longer than you)! Having rejected the whole world, everything that is troubled in the world, everything that the earthly king seduces - this predator of other people's property, a pest and a murderer, that is, wealth, glory, chairmanship, nobility of the family, unfaithful happiness, let us flee as quickly as possible to heaven, where many beauties shine around the ineffable Triple Light. And let others fall here and there, like checkers, and find pleasure in the falling of checkers, or, covering their eyes with thick darkness and holding on to the wall, follow each other! You might be interested in: