Todor Vranchev

Ten years since you died in pain;
who knows what kind of horror  
had been haunting your domain,  
severing your vision of tomorrow...  
  
I don't really know your story,  
just what I have read and heard;  
a gloomy illness seemed to worry  
your face on photos blurred....  
   
I get it, you excelled at studies,  
academic years passing in advance;  
excellent at grades, some ease  
you found in yoga breath and stance.  
   
I caress your ghostly face,  
Indeed I know that God you sought;  
So Let it heal, the Holy Grace,  
your stuck prevailing thoughts.  
   
Your mission's partially successful,  
even if at your expense;  
Your quest for God's no less than  
an opened unlosable sense.  
   
Rejoice now and be free of ~  
the dread within that nests;  
your mother's grieving love  
grounds you; she is clueless.  
   
I love you, I am proud of you.  
May people have your deep approach.  
Falling down is flying too;  
Your silent cry this world reproached.  
   
Suicide or not, it's true...  
you were full of virtues;  
or the honesty in you...  
Dedication future pursues.  
   
A star above your saddest head  
declares you are home again;  
the healing shower cures all bad  
things that wound a robust man.  
 
And silently, anticipation  
is gifted with an entrance.  
Angels singing in elation...  
"Be Lifted in the Heavens!"