The Beauty of the Urban Jungle.

By Charles P Forman

Walking south, on top of the concrete. I can hear cars pass by me, and trains rolling down the tracks underneath. While I stop and willow for a glimpse of time, the world around me moves faster than I can pick up the pace. I look up, only to have my view obstructed by towers that scrape the sky. I look forward, only to have the horizon covered up by artificial structures.

What was once fields full of trees and nature is now covered up, by materials retrieved from somewhere peaceful, where nature would rather be untouched. The lives that reside lost some of theirs, so that we could have it. What was once luscious sand and beautiful trees is now planks of wood, beams of concrete, and panes of glass. Like it or not, nature has no return policy.

On a journey you must stick to, the challengers know no bounds, and we are forced to continue with the hustle and bustle of everyday life, striking away at the days ahead, leaving the damage we have done in days past. We continue to run in the race of rats. We continue to live our lives with no questions about the alternative.

We want to escape but there is nowhere to go, for that where there is, is no different from where we come. Leaving everything behind only to find it somewhere else. And what we want we may never find, so we must keep walking south, to the horizon that is bound by our mistakes.

I am a writer of law, tech, and pop culture. Blogging via medium Microblogging via Twitter and Facebook