How do the tragedies
Of a million lives unknown
Fill my head with maladies
Uncannily set in stone?
How does the long-lost feeling
Of a longing so profound
Become, itself, oh-so-appealing
That my priorities come unwound?
There is a brotherhood
Unique to our holocene
Truly, no man is an island
As Donne had imagined in his dreams
To be incomplete, forever
Is the fate of the Human Endeavour.
And though the spectacles have been sublime
Empathy has not been washed away by Time.