Curación

Stands there this madness,
In corridors as they depart
Logic and wisdom, one by one
Draped in frustration,
From years and its fate
Tired from this journey
Our minds and lives
As the words pour out
Like the blood from the veins
From cuts deep as the gorges
As the Indus flows undeterred
We speak of the pain,
Inherent and resident
Of all those missing souls
For concepts now challenged
For visions, now distant
For words, in whispers
Stands there this madness
To end, as the moments fall
With arrival of spring
As the colour begins to emerge
As healing steps forward, uninvited!

Kashkin