The world is spinning
In dizzying cycles.
This world we’re in
Turns in viral circles.
Day in, day out,
Where are we going?
Beyond the turnabout,
Wild winds are blowing.
Turning and turning,
Blowing to a spining spin.
Man stumbling, fleeing,
In and out, and out and in.
No longer rhyme nor
Reason to the many turns,
Mindful of scraping, falling,
Causing painful burns.
Dizzying, dizzying, dizzying.
How, where, and when to go?
Here to there, anywhere,
The virus frightens so!
To some the virus is not here.
If so, what then is false or true?
Who then is to ask, who lies?
Is it me, or is it really you?
A lie? A farce? The circle
Turns, and truth to tell,
I believe the virus is here,
And it was born in hell.
Perhaps to flow
With viral tides is best.
But will I then survive
That lonely, final test?
The world is spinning
Bewilderingly so.
I need to hold on, till
I know where to go.
I am dizzy.
I want to sleep.
Viral waves gather
In the circling deep.
