Apollo

The state of things It’s a crisis The shame it brings It’s a crisis Isolation It’s a crisis Mass hysteria It’s a crisis Senseless dying It’s a crisis Divided nations It’s a crisis Spreading virus It’s a crisis But the rivers are flowing Clear. The trees are growing Years of filth walking astray Birds are singing Voices ringing Through sacred skies of blue and grey The blind now see the sun rays shining The worst of times have silver linings