To go outside on a cold winter day, to avoid fast food, to step out of the grey, is to step beyond the tribe, the nation, the throng. It is the listening to geese, squawking a song.

Can’t go to church, can’t go to school,
No putting on uniforms, nor dodging the fool. The virus has come; it’s natural revenge, for racing away from what Nature intends.

We may seek meaning beyond what is around us, a cosmic significance to the virus beside us. But there is meaning in being in belonging, but no meaning beyond, what it is to belong.

For we are owned, spirit, soul and spleen,
And held by a Hand, and meant to be seen. We do belong beyond our vocation,
Children of the Great Integration.

And while you may isolate at home for a while, Thou belongs to Me, and I to Thou.
And this is no longer a trial.

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