The Pot.
I wondered, lonely, as a cloud, along the capital river's bank.
Hoping the world would find its equilibrium again.
As the species went viral, people lost themselves and others, but there was
always, The Pot.
A beacon, dimmed for a while, but shining out a beam of hope.
A whispered promise, "I'll be back soon".
A dream of society, reinvented and reunited, but there was always, The Pot..
And in this brave and cowardly new world,
Where normal things changed in a flash, never to return,
There always was, and there should always be, The Pot.