A group of armed pirates racing in broken down motorboats
Off the Somali coast attack, the Night an impenetrable shield,
Empowering their parasitic practices,
Stealing from cargo ships that carry the fruit of others’ labor.
The waves wash away our work, time wasted.
The Night enables this, it embodies the clock ticking but with progress frozen in time.
“We never have time!” A complaint that never ceases to exist. The Night an untouchable culprit.
The Night falls upon the sky, wealthy.
Wealthy, not from its own work,
But instead by chipping away at our sand castles, wave by wave.
The Night is a palace built on the people’s burden.
The palace so lavish that Versailles looks like a slum.
Our access denied even though we are the architects.
Theft from seven billion humans, our Dreams crushed by the weight of the Night.
The life of our dreams turned into lifeless bricks of our own demise.
The perfect system
Creating, crushing, and using the Dreams.
Nothing can compare to its efficiency
Except us.
Civilization reminds the Night of those that defeated it.
The Dream that escaped the clutches of the Night taunts it.
The Night consumes our pipe dreams,
But the ones we truly nurture become reality.
We store those in our secret cache
Hiding underneath the artificial light that came from Thomas Edison’s Dream.
The artificial light that illuminates our Dream
And gives it chance to shine.