Man has not altered in a thousand years;

The same old insecurities and strife,

A tale of struggle, glory, smiles and tears

All thrown together—mixed with chaos rife;

Each generation striving for broad change

Where egos urge advancement on before;

Though gestures, clothes and styles or means may range,

The id still clings to jealous creeds foresworn.

While constructs of the mind are quick to burn,

And what was right now cinder cast as wrong,

The once eschewed, now boldly here return,

As primal hearts shed civil cloaks they’ve donned.

Thus what was progress seems decline renamed,

And love and hate, by need, stand interchanged.