The ideal road respects the natural rhythm of day and night, employing only the bare minimum of artificial lighting necessary for safety and navigation. This principle, though it may seem counterintuitive in our light-saturated world, reveals itself as both practical and reverent upon closer examination.

Consider the primary purpose of a road: to facilitate travel. In this endeavor, a vehicle's headlights provide ample illumination for safe nighttime driving. These focused beams of light, designed specifically for nocturnal journeys, offer all the visibility a driver needs. Street lights, then, should serve a more limited purpose: drawing attention to critical areas like intersections.

However, our urban landscapes tell a different story. Cities, in their misguided quest for safety and modernity, have embraced a philosophy of total illumination. Streets blaze with light, turning night into an artificial day. This approach is wasteful, uglifying, and disrupts the natural cycles of flora and fauna that depend on periods of darkness.

In contrast, rural roads offer a more harmonious approach to nighttime travel. These minimally lit thoroughfares allow drivers to experience the natural beauty of the night while still providing adequate lighting for travel. The occasional street light serves its true purpose here, standing out as a beacon rather than blending into a sea of unnecessary illumination.

As we delve deeper into this issue, we must confront an uncomfortable truth: our society's obsession with constant illumination represents a form of hubris. The cycle of day and night, established since the dawn of creation, has been deemed insufficient by modern man. We have taken it upon ourselves to "improve" upon this divine design, as if the alternation of light and darkness that God ordained for life on Earth is somehow inadequate for our needs.

This arrogance, this presumption that we know better than the Creator who formed our world, is a dangerous path. By flooding our nights with artificial light, we are not only disrupting the ecosystems God designed, but we are also severing our connection to the natural world He gifted us. We are denying ourselves the awe-inspiring experience of a star-filled sky, the subtle beauty of a moonlit landscape, and the profound sense of peace that true darkness—as God intended it—can bring.

But let us speak plainly: this relentless illumination of our world is nothing less than a rebellion against God Himself. In our misguided quest for control, we have created a world that never truly sleeps, never truly experiences the restful darkness that is our birthright. This constant illumination is not progress; it is a form of blasphemy, a rejection of the natural cycles that the Almighty has ordained for His creation.

Every excessively lit street is an affront to the divine order. Each unnecessarily bright intersection stands as a monument to man's arrogance, a direct challenge to God's wisdom in separating light from darkness. We have the audacity to think we can improve upon His design, to believe that our feeble attempts to banish the night are somehow superior to the perfect balance He established.

We ought to cast off this prideful folly and humble ourselves before the Lord. We should design our roads not as rivers of light cutting through God's domain, but as humble pathways that honor and preserve the order that He bestowed upon us, embracing the darkness as the sacred gift that it is.

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New 200 IQ post just dropped!

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