I thought I'd take a walk today,
down the road,
around the block.
Detach myself,
go where I feel,
not where I think.

I found myself under dimly lit street lamps,
questioning the lamps ferocity.
Man strives for evolution,
and around me it stands,
a testament to our ferocity,
our everlasting battle to be better.
Yet it feels so limp,
a dim light like a wisp of wind.
Not a raging fire,
a lions roar.

How great are we really?
Are the edifice of our time a testament to our eminence?

I stare into the window of a home.
On the television,
damnation.
A preacher and a parishioner,
absorbing the rhetoric.

One might think nothing of it,
but everything has a motive.

As I round the bend,
I think to myself an old idiom,
"the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak".
Our evolution is stalled under the impression that these edifice represent progress.
Alas, our minds remain stale.
Thousands of years of blood,
greed and deceit,
rest under dimly lit street lamps,
unseen and ignored.