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Concrete Kungle

The sun has set, and millions of lights awaken on the landscape.
I look out my window and spot the flickering light of the airport,
I see the dim light of a streetlamp, as it slowly fades in the 
Eternity of darkness that surrounds its stainless steel case.
And I wonder: Where does light go, after the streetlight dies?
Nowhere, it’s still there, only unseen by the eyes of the creatures
Living in the concrete jungle. 

And in the distance a weak spark broken by the sound of the 
inexistent trees flattering in the wind. A beggar is rolling his cart 
on the asphalt road, and on every bump I can hear the metallic 
noise which built this land long ago. The sky is filled with a cold, 
silky cover of darkness which spreads from one corner of the city 
in another, blurring the existence of stars, moons, far reaching planets. 
Like they would have never existed. Like no one would have ever 
discovered and named them. They’re out, beyond the limits. 
They aren’t real. Never were in the eyes of an urban being. 

In the neighboring building a light switches on. Someone came.
Somebody fills the void in the room, someone turns on the light.
Than after a moment it’s gone. It left its habitat probably to go
And meet its mates. Probably. The wind picks up again, as it
Can be heard through the alley. It’s strong. Someone’s caught 
In it, as a jacket can be heard screaming in the distance. 
In a moment it stops; as sudden as it started, the finish isn’t more
Subtle. The beggar returns to look for some shelter in the night.
It finds a bench to sleep on, and it tucks itself in with old, used 
Newspapers.

I stand looking out my window, and it all starts to clear out, 
than it becomes more confusing than it was earlier. Much more.
Nothing seems to add up. Everything is chaotic in this land 
where everything was created by man, yet everything seems 
so dead. I can’t imagine. I can’t think. I’m amazed by the 
City.

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