The dawn of human civilization
light rose from pages of the wise.
We turned the wheel toward the present,
countless hands shaping its motion.
Ideas brewed in that glow,
spilling across the earth,
looking inward and outward,
until even space bowed to its reach.
Today, I sit upon a hill
and see the same light chained in gold.
Many reach for it.
Few are allowed to hold it.
Once, it revealed the future.
Now it gleams like fool’s gold,
bright for those born with golden spoons.
I blamed the light.
But I see it clearly now
it is not the light,
it is the hand that holds the torch.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 10:09 PM UTC
The dawn of human civilization
light rose from pages of the wise.
We turned the wheel toward the present,
countless hands shaping its motion.
Ideas brewed in that glow,
spilling across the earth,
looking inward and outward,
until even space bowed to its reach.
Today, I sit upon a hill
and see the same light chained in gold.
Many reach for it.
Few are allowed to hold it.
Once, it revealed the future.
Now it gleams like fool’s gold,
bright for those born with golden spoons.
I blamed the light.
But I see it clearly now
it is not the light,
it is the hand that holds the torch.
