Smoke from chimneys heralds the dawn of evening,
Warm fires light hearths, as the day draws to a close,
And I watch, solitary, from my pinnacle,
As men hurry home, their daily pursuits over,
The noise of cars, raucous shouts recede in the distance,
With the dawn of evening.

Each with his secret dreams, his hopes, his sense of futility shields.
As the deepening shadows encourage his imagination.
Between office and home lies a world of make believe,
When clerks become officers, and officers ministers.
When the weak become strong and the strong almighty.
Till the home is reached.

Familiar sounds shatter into bits all hopes and dreams,
The warm hearths, the smoke from chimneys,
The smell of food, the signs of reality,
Increase man's frustration as he prepares,
For another day of his humdrum existence.

The day is done, the night descends,
And I watch the morrow bring another –
A further realization of his impotence.