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?