Dissonant are the melodies we spout, enjoying walks - me, in the clouds, you – in the porch where distances you may measure. Juice you sip, it’s not fresh say I. drawn from tetra packs that read, ‘Fresh fruit concentrate.’ Me, I peel my oranges, Extract their freshness, The glass is barely full yet pure it is, Yours, while full, isn’t quite there. Am I superior, you inferior? Do you look down, & I look up? Yes, some would say, Functional world order, ladder of hierarchy dominates us all- drives us apart. Your cynicism beats you down. my optimism bursts with hope Of a better world, free of virus’ hems us in- make of us, tired, grieving folk, breath constricted, arms limp, feet –sticks in the mud. Superimpose these worlds, overlap, intersect, connect. Glimpse the value of another realm, fantasy or truth, to each his own. The circle of life’s complete, yet appears imperfect & flawed. Domains bridged shan’t fall apart, exchange places, kick some dirt, from normalcy depart. can we live as one large sphere- thrive minus fear? Come, embrace my difference, And I’ll come down to yours. But wait, perhaps will you descend to embrace mine? Matters not. Let’s flourish among disparities, Show me who you really are, And I’ll share of myself.