I couldn't see,
for the life of me,
what all the ruckus was about.
Yet still they all cheered
as they watched it come crashing down,
the flames of the societal pyre
grew ever brighter
as the books of civilization we piled ever higher
and we stood back and watched it all burn down.
Where are we going,
that's what they all ask,
yet do they really want an answer,
or just some sympathetic paltitudes?
Reassurance that they're on the right track;
when deep in their hearts,
they know they're wrong.
The fires of our world, flaming to an end,
the next generation will never know.
To them, faded history
forgotten, burning in the night.
How will they see without that light?