Uninspired

devoid of motivation, emptied & without ideas, creative vision, focus or the ability to brainstorm, s/he enters the night out through the door to her/his dwelling, to define what it is to exist in this present moment, for the night brings worry to the senses, when the mind treads water in the fears of our distant distant ancestors, who without electricity, without illuminated cities, walked alone among the animals who may not have been so sympathetic or respectful of the power which we humans wield now. s/he ponders in the Cimmerian shade just what it would be like to be actually afraid, for such sensations have fled as science and technology brought with them an investigative method whose use has dispelled the delusion, lifting the curtain to reveal new fears, certainly, but ones that s/he cannot access in the depth of her/his personal night--- bored out of her/his mind, her/his stroll begins to slow down, coasting into oblivion as the headlights pass scanning her/him over like the hand ticking on a clock, mechanical & precise.