There's a pandemic,
The denial of Self,
Not only of the surface self,
But also of what lies underneath.

In the depths,
Mystery,
On the forefront,
Chaos,
All the while the middle,
Spins concentrically.

Openly exposed to lands both,
Futile and Fertile,
On either side,
There slides,
Shimmering isles screeching,
water whirling.