Swallow

Symptoms:
A minor discomfort of the mind,
Tension that puts your teeth on the grind.
Your elevated pulse is merely a sign
That the best of your senses have resigned.

Prognosis?
A case of cold, hard reality.

Perspective is a bitter pill,
But still - you swallow it dry with the rest of your fears.
You eat your words and regurgitate curds of
Shapeless succor,
The acid taste sweetened only by your unhinged tears.

There's a moment.
When you're on the table with all your cards out
Stripped of your reason, beyond your doubt,
Your thoughts - they trail; they're wayward bound.
They throb, they string, they burst, they pound.
But before the lilting pain subsides
You take a breath and you decide

You cannot conquer Time.
But your armies can go down fighting.

The realization that makes you wise
The sensation starts to metastasize
You infect a whole new strain of courage.
The pandemic can only do us good.