Solid.

A stOne.

Wracking,

The lake of

The heart.

Breathing,

We are,

But

Being aLIVE?

Splashes. And breakers.

And tremors. And havoc.

Blind eyes    Dumb skin.

Mask on        Face hid.

Locked up       In walls.

Doubts echo. Fear freezes

The mild lake of the heart.

Knotted brows. Ceaseless

Chitters and chatters of

“Not there. Too dangerous!”

“Not them—who have the virus!”

Me      staring at the   souls,

Souls      which escaped     Earth,

Souls      fled to distant     Stars,

Souls        which shined at          me.

Yet their       shines gummed up.        Blocked.

By opaque mists        and fogs and murks     of concrete. Walls.

To survive, compress the stone, let it sink slowly slowly

Let it sink slowly slowly, hitherto its touching

Of the deep mild bed of the lake of the heart.

And it sediments and it survives

From a corpse to a fossil

To energy to power and

It shines.