To measure grief will not provide relief
My walk is not indicative of my talk
In this theatre of life
The big ask is that of the Mask
This before the crisis of the virus
We forget the intent of the content
And forever search for the crim in this world grim
And every time we aim the blame
On the freak the real meek as we seek
To be the best tribe with the biggest hive
As it is our belief that without the biggest
hive we cannot thrive
Connection and meaning is not a need but becomes pure greed
The tools become the fool....
But is this new ? Or has this happened before ?
Is it my own arrogance that seeks to
Think without the real blink
That I have some unique insight
Or am I just repeating the same plight
Is it really even a fight ?
Or just moments in the continuum
With different costumes and script
But the noise makes me blind to the melody which strains with every note
to let me hear it’s little strings
.... just a serries of very small things
The significance of their brilliance
Makes me deaf .....
