Mateo Rubiera
All of our story lies before us, but none will lie after;
Soon is the day when we are laid out to pasture;
How can I gladly await the day with no laughter;
A day when they`ve even taken the job of story-crafter?
When god died, so did we;
There must be an end to every history;
Now only the location of the fullstop remains a mystery;
I can see the periphery of humanity...
Mirage?
There I see a man alone on a hill, they think him crazy;
I know better still, he is not lazy;
"Here, take this open letter, we shall never end;
We will be unfettered, follow me `round the bend."
As he reads it his eyes widen;
He sees past the horizon;
We run and run and run and run;
The clock ticks and still we run.
Soon enough years `pon years have passed, behind us follows a peloton;
We begin to write our own Mabinogion;
In the distance, hears I, the buildings falling;
The desperate screams are wretched and appalling.
We laugh together, as they cry;
"How did they not see it, as did I;
How did they not see the signs;
How did they not foresee the falling monolithic pines?"
As my end comes, as I see the light;
I look around, I see no blight;
We are just one of many, we are just one of one;
E pluribus unum...
Centuries.
A rocket shoots up into the sky;
Our very own Saturn V;
Our progress can be considered deleted;
History can only repeat itself when no one knows it`s being repeated.