Making sense of the pandemic – dirt or gold?

 Making sense of the pandemic – dirt or gold?

In a distant land far away

Was born an imposition terrible

So that my life was held in sway

And along with it – people affable

Cars stopped, shops shut, money cut

Alas, it was not for naught

Betwixt bewilderment, birthed awakening

For in murky soil is buried gold

Reading, writing and speaking

Of course, thinking for the not too old

The pragmatists term the soil murky

‘Cause that’s what it is

But the poets term it gold itself

‘Cause that’s what it is

Whether gold births gold is but unknown

Yet, suffering bearing promise is known

Still, the little boy walks up to the podium

Hearing no talk of such medium

Says politely – while the pandemic was hell cometh

Cometh too was progress, no lament