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How was it possible? Ah, the mystery floats in the air, like a blue mist, dense and cold,
Enveloping the entire planet in a mantle of silence, of unspoken, unresolved questions,
In the eleventh hour, when shadows lengthen and the sun hides timidly behind the horizon,
No one seems to lift their brow to ask: &quot;How was it possible...?&quot;
How was it possible to lock an entire world in houses, to steal their smiles and the light from their eyes,
To frighten them with an invisible virus, a bogeyman of long, cold nights,
With promises of salvation in vials of hope and fear, injected under the skin, like unfinished dreams,
With a substance that promises a new life, but brings only shadows and echoes of a phantom disease?
How was it possible to change their behavior, to steal their reason,
To transform their courage into fear and solidarity into suspicion,
To close their churches, those sanctuaries of the soul, and turn them into animals,
Into creatures of instinct, driven by fear and despair, lost in darkness?
How was this colossal Psychological Operation possible,
An unprecedented grand spectacle, in which humanity itself was the enemy,
A theater of the absurd, where puppets dance on invisible strings,
And their voices are lost in the echo of a world that has lost its meaning, direction, humanity?
Ah, the mystery floats in the air, like a blue mist, dense and cold,
Enveloping the entire planet in a mantle of silence, of unspoken, unresolved questions,
And in the eleventh hour, when shadows lengthen and the sun hides timidly behind the horizon,
No one seems to lift their brow to ask: &quot;How was it possible...?&quot;

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