It brings to mind Yeats' words (and Yeats is my favorite poet)
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
I expect he will survive.
I love Yeats, too. But when he wrote that poem, I expect he had folks like you in mind. FWIW.
I.e., people who don't give a rat's *ss about any putative "center" that can hold.
But to me, my dear friend, time is the "mother of Truth." And we will be subject to Truth's finding, at the end of the day.
May God bless you, dude. You need it - as do we all.