Өнөөдөр сонгуулийн өдөр. Хэндээ санал өгч, хэнээр төрөө бариулах вэ...Тун ч эргэлзээтэй...Гэхдээ энэ бол түүх. Түхийн алтан хором урсаад өнгөрлөө. 

Ном бол түүхийн өлгий юм.  Түүх гэдэг эхлэл төгсгөлгүй цаг хугацаа юм.  Аль нэг хэсгээс нь  залж аваад аль нэг хэсэгт нь  уурга зүүгээд алддаг алдуул хүлэг юм.  Гагцхүү нэг нь алдаж ахуйд нөгөө нь амдаж байдаг учиртай утгатай, ёстой жудагтай  зүйл ээ... Түүхийг хэн ч бичиж болно.  Нэг талаас түүх бол бэлэн зэхээний зүйл.  Хажуугаар нь хэнэггүй өнгөрсөн хүн л түүхээ гээчихдэг. Түүнээс өдөр өдрийн тэмдэглэлээ цуглуулаад байваас түүх  өөрөө өөрийгөө биччихдэг. Би ингэж боддог.

элэг
Хөх хөх уулсад минь  түмэн түмэн чулууд бий. Тэр чулуун дотор элгэн хүрэн өнгөтэй ч байдаг. Илбийн цэнхэр өнгөтэй ч бий. Танан цагаан, тас хар, үнсэн саарал, үгээр хэлэхийн аргагүй солонголог,  өнгөөр зурахын эцэсгүй тунамал гээд олон янз даа...Чулуу бүхэнд байдаг үндсэн чанар нь  хатуу чанар. Тэгээд  ч чулуу шиг хатуу гээ биз... Гэвч гээд бодоход зөөлөн чулуу бас бий.  Билүү гэж өөрийгээ элээж өрөөлийг хурцалдаг  хавтгай хөх чулуу бий.  Ус, нар, салхи ээлжлэн хүлхсээр байгаад мөлийлгөсөн элгэн хүрэн чулуу миний гарт байна. Энэ чулууг нэг талаас нь үзвэл хатуугаас хатуу, нөгөө талаас нь бодвол зөөлнөөс зөөлөн чулуу...Элгэн хүрэн чулуу л даа.  Гарт зөөлхөн гөлгөр гулгасан энэ чулууг атгаад бодолхийллээ. Өнгөөр нь  дүйж нэрлэсэн юм бол уу, зөөлнөөр нь  зүйрлэж нэрлэсэн юм бол уу... Аль алинаар нь л байх даа.  Элгэн хүрэн чулуунаас үүдэн сэтгэл зүрхний минь  дотоод чинадад  элэг, элгэн садан, элгэн нутаг, элэг зөөлөн, элэг барих, элэг хөших хүрэл мөн ч олон салаа  салбар утга  шахцалдаж байх юм...
Ээ дээ элэг зөөлөн хүний үр гэдэг энэ хорвоогийн хамгийн нандин эрдэнэ дээ...Цээжин цаана эзнийхээ төлөө өвдөж зовж, гуньж гутарч,  инээж  эрдэж яваа  элэг минь...Чамд юу хэрэгтэй байна даа.
Элэг бодолхийлсэн ч үгүй шууд л... Инээд, сайхан сэтгэл хоёр л...гээд ээнэгших шиг болох юм. Би бодолхийллээ.. Амьдралдаа би элэг чамайг мөн ч их зовоолоо доо. Одоо харин...

Энэ гэрэлт өдрийн нарыг тэнгэр дүүрэн мандахад сэтгэлийн ариусал зүрхний гүнээс урсан урсан  та олонд минь хүрэг дээ... Өнөөдөр  нэг л өнгөтэй мбайна. Өр зүрхний цаана баярын совин гийгээд. Өгөөмөр  хүний өөдөөс алхаж яваа ч юм шиг...Өлгийтэй жаахан хүү  инээж байгаа ч юм шиг... Өвгөн буурал сургаал хэлж байгаа ч юм шиг... Өндөр тэнгэрийн доор нэг л сайхан совин татаад байна.  Өөдөөс мандах гэрэлт наран чамайг өвөртлөөд явах юм сан даа..

Stone is lost

Once, my dad said that “Stone is lost.” “Human beings and domestic animals can be lost,” I wondered. “How the stones get lost.” This wonderment might have related me to my mother land’s stone. Every land’s stone has its own color. Insects have similar color to stone as if they were resembled. Our desert’s stone has such an especial color. I can nearly recognize its unusual indication wherever it is. Nice colored stones – as smooth as pearl, which makes me remember delicate flowers’ color - lie. I’m sitting on the rich ground of warm desert, - in which there are so many agates - conversing with my childhood - that was running by riding a brush wooden rod and giving a slap in my hip - about my mother land’s stone.

I remember when tripping onto a stone, I threw the stone - that made me trip down -with whop of my little muscles. Now I realize and rankle with I made a stone get lost then. My impish childhood - that made mother land’s stone get lost - is twittering around me.

Now I am middle aged and here I am on the brown mountain where I was born and grew up. On my palm there are three stones I’ve took by praying in order that I give one by one to my two sons who to be heir to me and to keep for me who came from far missing my mother land. It seems as if someone says that “In spite of the fact that you yourself got lost, do you want to make your mother land stone get lost?” “Not at all,” I explained to him. After that I stand up by gripping three black stones I took by praying in my warm palm. I want to go with my mother land’s stone in the far land.

When I pass away, this stone will lead me to my mother land.

The eyes

Eye is a world in which the universe can be completely contained. “That you see the world isn’t different from living forever,” there are many times I think so. I thought so, Dark and stormy night while I was hardly going to take the sheep back to home. I thought so, when I dreamed that I had felt down into the gap. So much thought - that makes me understand and anxious - is hovering around me. I am writing this article so that I can understand thoroughly. Glance of the sinless eye… That trust someone - who contains the world in his eyes - means believe in his eyes indeed. So many times I have heard that someone’s name is written on his face. There will be many people who believe if you say that someone’s name is written on his eyes instead of saying on his face. One epigram says, “In case the hay felt into lake (eye), the hay wouldn’t suffer. Instead, the lake (eye) would suffer.” If everyone is a different world, how he can be without rankling when another one make his world move. I am seized by profound thoughts due the fact that someone left one photo that is dejecting and apprehensible. It seems as though this picture was talking to me about many things.

In this photo middle aged and swarthy faced man - whose striped clothes got perforated - stands in front of the door of barbed wire fence staring desperately at mother who is leading her son by her hand and going to the bus stop. It’s impossible to know how much idea he is telling me with his eyes that are staring silently. Who imagines what a woman - whose tip of plaited and dense hair is blown away in the wind and who lead her son with her right hand and take a bag with thermos - is thinking about. This is a so and so photo. How much thought this picture expresses. Why did the photographer take this occasion? He could have taken the photo while they were hanging around or having meal together. However, he couldn’t. I should respect the photographer who chose and took this action in order to observe the life deeply. I looked at this photo again and again. The prisoner who met his spouse and son few minutes ago feels mixed feeling. That’s why his eyes seem as doleful and blissful. It seems like he is looking at his spouse and son who are going away.

I just give up looking at the photo on my desk and continue thinking about eyes. After he was suffering from doing bad things, first of all his eyes might have seen him. Likewise, when he lived in the happiest period, firstly, his eyes may have seen him, too. Human beings see their destiny by their eyes. Since people live just once, eyes can corroborate what he saw after seeing his mother and the sun. (After he was born) So eye is a tape ball that can record everything I’ve ever seen and done before I give up my ghost. Furthermore, eyes are the mirror of mind and heart. There is no way to cheat insomuch as my eyes record everything of my life. My eyes are such treasures that became pair in order to see the world deeply.

Eyes are a mystery that is not only usual but also remain as a secret forever and that can speak and cry. There might not have been any poetry who didn’t write about eyes. How wise our adage saying that “If mind is blind, eyes are blind too.” It’s extremely pleasant to live with spiritual eyes except for the eyes on the face.

The darkness

Night is dark. Everybody knows. Day is dark. Somebody sometimes knows. Person is dark. You know it seeing with your spiritual eyes. Mind is dark. It’s difficult to recognize. The moon brightens the dark night. Heart and hearty word brighten the dark day. Exclusively, recognizing darkness of mind is still difficult. Blackness… Darkness… Darkly…fuzzily… daylight

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