before the ending

I have this question from time to time:

What will our end look like?

Will it be pestilence? Arrogance?

Will this world heal in our absence?

Everyone fights against that deadline,

For longevity, for purpose,

For tomorrow’s assurance.

So they say our race is malicious,

Vicious, too ambitious.

A spark searing down a detonating cord,

Sprinting faster than we can afford.

We’ll go out in a blazing storm,

In glory, true to form.

So perhaps we’re not meant for stability,

To exist in quiet limbo for eternity.

After all, the beauty of life is its brevity,

So although it’ll end eventually,

While we can, we’ll exist resplendently.

—

watching a lot of love death n robots :))