A turbulent two weeks, nothing happened – To us.
Not much done nor lived nor conquered,
The world closed
The sun sheltered from work.
And a reality hit like a Phobia,
A Fear of crowds or activity,
A fear of not.
We thought – answers never came.
In two hours the world will wake,
Anxious fatigue will dwell like dirty goggles on a clear view,
And in two rooms there is not enough air to breath.
Two hours till waking,
In bed we lie,
And like half a soldier
We conquer only what torments us,
Nothing at all
Only in our imaginations
We are lost.