These days may rage like a lion’s fanged roar;
wail like cupid trapped in a loveless cage;
taste like the dull blues of dust on barely opened blinds;
cry like broken clocks standing on a firing squad line.
We can number these days of isolation on the walls of our abodes, or on the dark cave walls where our minds get so easily lost.
These days we can become chaos or the cure.
To remedy, not ruin, remember there’s no one, but one.
Resist fracture. Resist getting too perplexed by the higher mathematics of anxiety attacks.
Try believing in We.
Try believing it’s A, B, C, easy as 1, 2, 3.