There Always exists balance. Illusion also
Is a permanent presence in all I perceive.
The task then becomes simple – not hard to perform
In a world of psychosis which is not the norm.
How would I know what’s normal? I feel I must grieve
For the death of all hope. Nothing is all I know.
It’s a stage with a backdrop and curtains drawn wide
To reveal mass confusion and selfish intent
Among some human actors who have some control
Over life and death and what becomes of the soul.
The assumed deadly virus is not an event
That the global theater is taking in stride.
Front and center, my acting is done while in place.
As my personal needs blend with objective goals,
The inspired isolation can bring about peace.
In the uncertain long run there can be release
From the rampant disorder that no one controls.
My serenity deepens as self I embrace.