Human Wasteland

Please note the religious references in this poem are not intended to offend/dispute any particular religious beliefs but rather are just random ideas with regards to common schools of thought.


In the wilderness of the night I spied a grain of serenity.
I caught a paradox of infinity, a savage beautiful symphony of light and dark.

There was no order and no capacity, no threads of insanity, just a subtle realisation with the dawning ascension into the human condition.

It was a thought all of its own, idealised from grated stone and pressed into ink with a wired black keyboard, creeping into daylight as the words began to form in the void.

And on the same page, appeared a reporter, a truth-seeker, the mountain lion in the savanna, through spears of fiction and unnecessary dictations from waste of space orators.

But we are all on the same page:
Animal, the human race,
Insects, mammals and reptiles,
All old yet all infantile.

All related with innate existence, entwined with futile resistance to a philosophy deeper than condemnation.

And yet its inevitable our diabolical intentions would cast us from Eden and expose the evil within our bestiality.

So now we live in a wasteland on the outskirts of paradise, a few blocks from hells vices.
With no point of return, straight roads, left turns.
No revolution, no evolution,
We're slaves to ancient factions and rules.

"Eden is inside us, humans were never outcast, they just got lost."