NEW – June 21, 2022
Here there is a clash of worlds, a milestone is passed, to which humanity has approached and chooses its own path
Donbass is the guiding point of Russian history, drawing a ballistic curve along which Russia is rushing towards its mysterious fiery target. Donbass is a grandiose reactor, spewing out streams of energy that melt the world and shake continents.
Everything that happens on the planet today is connected with Donbass. Smoke, in the ruins of cities and villages. Burning tanks and falling planes. Russian military factories operating day and night. American howitzers arriving at the Donetsk front. Meetings of European ministers and the raging American Congress. Fierce Russophobia that has engulfed the world. Secret meetings of world sages, dark wizards, and secretive magicians. Battles in the sky, on land and at sea, in human souls, in the hidden catacombs of world history — all this is Donbass, its fatal formidable power that moved the world platforms. Donbass is the innermost centre of the world, which has accumulated over millions of years a huge amount of energy from those tropical forests that have turned into coal and are being burned in the world’s furnaces, feeding the magic metallurgy of world history.
So many people passed through the Donetsk steppes, so many ideas, world cultures, and celestial energies moved! In the land of Donbass, among fossilised fish and carboniferous ferns, in forgotten mounds lie the remains of kings, magi and prophets, their dormant bones decorated with bronze and gold. The energies of Donbass either woke up, awakened by the impact of the heavenly rays, or again sank into sleep. And now, after the hibernation in which the peoples of the conquered, in a deep swoon, exhausted Russian nation were, Donbass has woken up. It’s as if a cosmic particle hits a dead person in the temple, and the dead person jumps up, shakes the grave earth from their shoulders, takes a rifle, goes into battle, and sends a bullet into the destroyers of the Motherland.
The Russian reactor woke up. Why not Vologda, Yaroslavl, where the deep root of Russia lies? Why not in Pskov, not in Novgorod, where the seed of the Russian state fell? Not in the mighty Urals, which cooked the iron of Russian victories in all ages? Why in Donbass?
Not Moscow, which has been turned into a market place for impudent, self-willed victors, not St. Petersburg with its gloomy sadness about the lost imperial greatness, but Donbass – the land of sunflowers and waste land, coal miners and blacksmiths. Crimea flared up, lit up Donbass like a magic flower. Europe, like a merciless stone crusher, began to grind Russian bones in Donbass, pour lead into Russian-speaking mouths, and gouge out the blue eyes of Russian icons. The divine Crimea and the Satanic West came together in Donbass in a deadly battle – eternal and merciless. And the people of Donbass woke up – they were angry and rejoiced. There appeared warriors, daredevils, warlords who burned themselves at the stake of the world’s conflagration. Givi, Mozgovoy, Motorola, the unforgettable Zakharchenko – they were the first to take the fight on the Russian border, and fell in this unequal battle. They fell to the ground, but the thud of their falls turned into a tremendous impact that changed the modern world.
It is not just military contingents, weapons systems, the passion of fighters, the skill of military leaders, and the will of presidents that are fighting in Donbass. Here there is a clash of worlds, a milestone is passed, to which humanity has approached and chooses its own path: into the black abyss of the great nullification, dehumanisation and gloomy, for all other centuries, the outer darkness or luminous victory. The one that the best sons of mankind dreamed of, believing that the crown of history would be an earthly blooming kingdom, a reflection of the divine Kingdom of Heaven, where there is no darkness, violence, utter misery, but only divine justice and grace.
While Russia slept, dug in its vegetable gardens, gave birth to oligarchs as fat as earthworms, who transferred Russian goods abroad, while Russia laughed at its misfortunes, mocked the cross to which it was nailed, Donbass fought. Donbass became a huge retort, where the mysterious chemistry of history took place, the synthesis of energies took place, and mysterious, previously unknown precipitation precipatated.
In Donbass, reds and whites, Ukrainians and Russians, Jews and Greeks, Orthodox, atheists and pagans have merged together. Out of the fire rose that eternal Russian who kept in themselves the hope of divine truth, of universal justice. Here, amid missile attacks and planes falling to the ground, the universal Russian worldview was revived, for which Russia was created, taking into its arms many other peoples, cultures, and beliefs, and became the “Salvation of the World”.
Donbass is the Russian Dream. Ravishing, heavenly, never leaving the Russian soul for all the millennia of its history. Russian history is the approach to this dream, its continuous shouting and begging in the great works to achieve it, with a miraculous resurrection after all the falls, an Easter procession to where the future glows with grace. Where Orthodox images and banners, the Russian tri-colour, the imperial black-and-gold banner and the red, fiery, flaming Victory Banner with a golden hammer and sickle wave in the procession – this is a Russian icon of the 20th century.
Here, in Donbass, in the attacks, among the smoke craters, bloody infirmaries, the ideology of the Russian Dream, the ideology of the new Russian State – the fifth Russian Empire – is confirmed.
Donbass awakened a slumbering Russia. So the light of the sun penetrates into a dark, huge mountain, into its cold depths, and the depths come to life, warm up, and begin to hum. Donbass is a dead and living water that revives Russia. Donbass horrified all the evil spirits that had accumulated in Russian life during the years of its debilitating defeat. The broom of Donbass scraped and swept away all the liberal rubbish that fell into the garbage pit of voluntary emigration. The Donbass fire burned the unrighteous fortunes inherited by looters. It awakened creativity in the people: many poems, songs, priceless ideas and discoveries related to the great purification of society, with the creation of a renewed Russia.
Donbass has entered Putin’s heart, which seemed to be beating more evenly and calmly after the miracle of Crimea. And suddenly there was a blinding flash of Donbass, that sunstroke that led the Russian troops on the offensive, and the Russian people on their historic counterattack.
Today, Russian history is being written in Donbass as a continuation of the history of Oleg and Svyatoslav, Ivan the Terrible and Pyotr the Great, Joseph Stalin and the victorious marshals who crushed the fascist reptile with their worn down boots.
Go to Donbass, and have in your hands a fighter’s machine gun, a painter’s brush, a musician’s bow, a poet’s pen. In Donbass, the great Russian history will lick you with its fiery tongue, and you will feel like a Russian. And after Aleksandr Vasilyevich Suvorov, who took Ismail and Ochakov, you will exclaim: “I am a Russian! What a delight!”
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