The virus will, sooner or later, play itself out

We repeat that, in spite of that nagging doubt.

In the meantime, it will take some of us along

Whether or not we have done anything wrong.

The game of life has ever played out like that

Sickness will always pick some out of the hat.

This present strain is blind, and is hungry too.

Social gap, washing hands, all that we can do.

And who is that, who hides behind a mask?

Halt, who goes there? I cannot help but ask.

Mustn’t wait here, for one approaches near

Scramble for a distance that’s born of fear.

The closer it comes to us, the further we go

From each other, why must it estrange so?

Perhaps it wants to tell us we are all alone

And all we shall ever have is one to mourn.

We must think, know how to cut our losses

Perform that needful, and hold our horses

Hope it is just a visitor, it will not long stay.

When it has stirred our souls, will go away.