"As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; They kill us for their sport." (King Lear, 4.1. 37–38)

Veils of disguise,
fall from my eyes
I have the virus today.

Will it drift away?
Stay positive?
Spit out
signs and wonders?

No!

This ground will remember me~
like winds across the ocean
like dolphins in the sea -
Right in my core
nestle
things I can’t recall:
a silence predominates,
in this empty,
hall.

Like never before,
shadows on the dance floor,
strobe lights on the ceiling,
no awe-created guise
just a plain loving feeling.
a love light in our eyes.
Is to resist time’s disguise
merely
a metaphor for feeling?
Tenderness fills my eyes.