How did a tiny pathogen, pressing down on a
fault line, break our world – split it wide open,

so half of humanity now walks the tightrope
between disease and hunger, life and despair

clutched evenly in both hands? As if the universe
has opened its third eye, as if the god of

destruction is dancing handsomely in his rage,
as if once more, we can point and blame and

pretend this is how it was before. I asked
you once: if this is the end, what will we

remember? That night was murky, the air
burdened with fallen rain. And you said, remember

that behind those clouds is a moon we cannot see,
behind that is a sun that will rise at dawn and

behind that will come another night to remind us
of this one. That is the night which will stay forever.

the right path
is the…