Time is linear

Day Seven: Write a poem in which each line is a single, declarative sentence except the last, which is a question.

Only parts of the world go dark at night.
This is a relatively recent discovery.
It is widely known that science moves quickly.
There are many who express concern over this.
In the music of progress, some notes are out of tune.
Geniuses have deemed this problem "uncorrectable."
The people have taken to using flashlights.
They have accepted this as a temporary solution.
In Sydney, they are pointing and laughing.
In Japan, they are gripped by bouts of insomnia.
The time difference is seldom accounted for.
In the morning, scientists wonder at the confusion.
To what do we owe the pleasure?
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Playing on Spotify at this very moment:
Blind Pilot, Oviedo