Once, ‘neath the city’s restless light,
Where neon signs outshone the night,
A gentle knock, relentless, distant,
Echoed through stale, heavy air.
Shadows lingered on the ceiling,
Certainties were set to reeling—
Progress, worshipped, cold and gleaming,
Bared its teeth in sterile glare.

Quoth the billboard, “Buy contentment!”
And the crowds, with silent consent,
Filed in line, faces downcast—
Dreams exchanged for dollar signs.
Mirrors cast a gaze—uncanny,
Eyes as vacant as a penny—
Each reflection, how so many
Yearn for what the heart declines.

Ravens now are drones, unfeeling,
Over anxious cities wheeling;
Nevermore the bells inviting—
Only sirens split the night.
Yet, with every jest and laughter,
Echoes haunt us ever after—
Irony, our clever master,
Masks our sorrow, out of sight.

So I ponder, restless, wary,
If this “better world” we carry
Is but a ruse—how darkly clever—
All this progress, yet none content.
Let the shadows, sly and jaded,
Mock the dreams that once paraded:
“Nevermore shall you be sated—
Discontent is your torment.”