Culled, eclipsed by COVID19

TRIBULATION

Culled, eclipsed by COVID19.
(A Poem)

my brothers, my brothers,
from the stratosphere, I have emerged,
called down equus ferus caballus and I.

what has awoken can never sleep,
until Corona sweeps across the seas,
the invisible pappus carried on the winds.

trapping trillions and atomizing billions,
the bête noire of the twenty-first century,
the first culling scythe has swung.

restless locus struggle in the quagmire,
bored rats in a maze raging against the ineludible,
defiant feckless comportment sealing their own fate.

braggarts boast we have survived,
oblivious to the next wave of virulent,
global nations fall as one.

as the last of the servile succumb,
civilization cogs still, voice’s quiet,
souls merge with the ethers of eternal night.

lookup, equestrian riders cross the globe,
hoofs sparking a tribulation of isolation,
a masked world set apart, separated.

industry’s boneyards shackle power,
equality in poverty paints a new face,
as famine has his gluttonous fill.

let nations rally into one union,
death’s renaissance in motion.
together they subsist divided in woe,

or evanish as the sun sets,
warring against anticipations promise,
discontent in the mire of loss.

will they find the restoration of verve,
the jubilance of élan vital,
the munificence to create abundance?

culled, eclipsed by COVID19.

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TRIBULATION Culled, eclipsed by COVID19 (A Poem)
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