Stroke of Insight

In conversation with an old friend,
Of changes, we experience
Of time, that creates the divides
In us and around us, at random
Inside and outside,
From faces of antiquity to modernity,
Remain they inside hidden
My trails to insanity and freedom
Of what I read and what I think
I have grown too old, perhaps
Whether I am needed or not
As it finds me in its gaze,
The old glory and my inquests
For who we are and where we belong
In there, somewhere, I know
I can play my part, I can contribute
Ways are many, just reach out

In conversation with an old friend
Remote and in nearness,
As words play havoc in dreams
As dreams captured, in jars of gold
Through paces of these constitutions
Of life and wisdom, and here I stand
Across all these oceans apart,
Find you will me one day,
This line of sight, inside me
As I play in what given to me
With these strokes of insight,
Hands you may see empty
But inside me this world
Its burdens; its treasures
In bindings with clay and soul
The old adventures into past
My trails to insanity and freedom!

Kashkin