A Moth To A Flame

The virus seemed to overtake the human race. It swept over on a westward wind in droplets from their own sweet breath. Opportunely, it favored the elders. The naturally weakened immunity of each advanced year, every decade rendered them respectively more defenseless.
Like a moth to a flame, the virus flapped it’s powdery wings around the existing infirm. Spreading invisibly in the dark of night, it ran rampant.
Despite mankind’s best efforts at scientific research, medical magic and blind faith, multitudes perished.
The robust youth were spared. Paradoxically, it was theorized that through natural immunity, closer to the womb, with ease they carried on.
The entire earth, the planets, the stars, the heavens observed the viral human calamity. All of the elements, all of nature, even all that was manmade remained unharmed.
Lakes, ponds, rivers and streams froze, thawed and circled back. Waves crashed upon shores then receded into themselves. Tides ebbed and flowed.
All of the animals, save for a single Wuhan bat, multiplied and thrived just as nature intended.
Trees rose into the sky. Budding, bursting, blooming, repeating. They shaded that first summer in filtered lights of green.
Evergreens evergrew. Matters of a virus, they never knew. Deep in the forest, home to the earthlings who are anything but human, safety could be found.

The human race became a collective head case.

Nothing was really as it seemed.
A love of your life may accidentally whisper words of death. A friend could kill you just being a friend. A village walk and you hold your breath.
Trip to the market, let’s just skip it.
Too many unembodied faces in the living room.

A gaslighting on epic scales? By who to whom?
Surely we must place the blame. Who, just who, brought the entire human race to it’s knees?
If you know beyond a shadow of doubt,
abondon with me the masquerade.
Walk by my side, softly upon the earth
at the mighty oceans’ edge
into a valley or mountainside
among the trees, the streams and lakes
the fluorescent yellow-ring-necked snake.
Listen for the assumedly nothings
in the wild
the safety of the places that I go.
Tell me of the apolitical, proven somethings
that you’ve learned,
you absolutely know.

NB Wilde

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