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… Now an implacable age looms over the world.

Regard these dogs,
Flotsam humans,
Washing up amnesiatic
On the shores of the present.

We remain transfixed
By the glare
Of that which is to come
To raze this pitiful shore
Where not even a temple can stand,
From whence the last of mankind
Ugly, diffident
Must stumble, blindly
No different than their forebears
To whence and where
Unknown.

No chorus shall raise lament
Nor sing glory in remembrance
As there will be no ears
To listen.

Not just the bleating of the lamb, non plus,
But the faintest tendril
Of an echo resounds
From ages past, and those to come,
When men stood
Resolute in rapture
And shall stand, once again
No, not like judges at the end of time
But ἄγριοι ἀγριόνων,
Warlords of the world to come,
Picking through the flotsam of skyscrapers,
Dealing death
From the backs
Of iron beasts.

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