Doubt thou the stars are fire?

"If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces." Tonight my poor man's container is made a palace by the presence of a princess. The bard's words from the Merchant of Venice seem to describe my mood well. Arriving just before the curfew fell, Maya is dressed in a white and green dress that is stunning, and she is wearing a silver ankh around her neck, the symbol of life, and the secret sign of the resistance. All the churches were closed ages ago and religion has had to go underground. Wearing a cross could get you into trouble, but the ankh counts as simple jewelry, so goes unnoticed. She is vegan so I've let her take charge of my kitchen while I write this message to my former self. Maya still has a good wine cellar in her house, and she brought a fine bottle of port with her, a Warre's 1976 Colheita Tawny. Quite a rarity in these times of quarantine and curfew. I managed to find a packet of organic fair trade coffee on the black market this afternoon, so it promises to be a fine dinner. Because of the curfew Maya will have to stay the night, and I will be sleeping on the couch in the living room. Neither of us seems in the mood for serious talk tonight. There has been enough bad news for one week. We both just want to enjoy each other's company and not worry about tomorrow. In the middle of a London living in fear and delusion, the spirit lets its presence be known in the silence.
"Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love."