Re-Evolution

The more we progress the less we evolve

The shrill shriek of a saddened bird
breaks the silence of redemption.
Burdened by the loss of cover,
it sings a song of saviours.
Desolate spires of deadened trees
cry havoc to the heavens.
Alone it sits in utter solitude,
a remnant of progress.
On a charred limb, in a carbon coat
it contemplates the events;
of evolved man and modern war.
And the ways in which we differ.
It may have less a thought than us
but has conscience created all the fuss.