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It is ironic

That what was known in its time

As the end of history

Is truly a new beginning

Like a new dawn that breaks

After a night so dark it seemed without end

A nascent era now titillates

In the absence of greed and corruption

A flower sprouts again

From the corpse of grandiose vanity

New eras shall obfuscate

Until a new breed might awaken

To the curse of consciousness

And the cycle is renewed

A new descent can now begin

As the obscure witnessed

The maternal war is birthing

Rising in doom

Falling in ascending

A new breed might awaken

To the curse of consciousness

Bereft of the instinctual bliss

Of unconsciously writhing in agony

We keep grasping at our futile longing

But the light at the end

Shall not be for us

But for the scion of our absence

In a world wielding our scars