Plague

Currently a coronavirus is spreading across the globe. Where will it end? This is a reflection on death by virus, past and present and future.

Plague

It comes slowly at first, then fast
Like a terror from distant past
And taking hold, and more die
Breathing stops, and final sigh
By trade and traveller, spreads
Fickle fate cutting the threads
Of life. There is not panic yet
But victims feverish, sweat
Through the very air we breath
Drinking waters of the Lethe
Always the fear, that this time
The virus will be in its prime
Spread like plague of yesteryear
Bringing panic stricken fear
Survivors: who will remain behind
To rebuild, face a daily grind
As our civilisation falls apart
Losing that steady, beating heart
A Darwinian trap: ending all
As mankind takes a nasty fall
But perhaps not now, this day
But it will happen, this I say
The dice will be thrown at last
And Death ride in from the past