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Ruins of the thirst for destiny, we consume ourselves in our own desire to be,
Our weakness, the key to the historical future, has reduced us to nothingness,
Yet it also saved us, gifting us the taste of collapse, sweet and dizzying,
We yearn for an event that surpasses all events,
A fear that transcends all fears, embracing us with cold arms.
Catastrophe, the only solution, post-history, the only remaining opportunity,
We wonder if humanity might be better off dissolving itself now,
Rather than fading slowly, sinking into hopeless waiting,
Exposing itself to an era of agony, risking the loss of all ambition,
Even the ambition to disappear, to melt into the void of eternal oblivion.
We are trapped between two abysses, that of existence and non-existence,
Dancing on the edge of the precipice, drunk on our own mortality,
We dream of a grand finale, an apotheosis of the human species in decline,
But perhaps our end will be as banal as life itself,
A whisper in the cosmic wind, a speck of dust in the vastness of the universe.
Oh, fragile humanity, clinging to the thin thread of vain hope,
Are you ready to abandon your millennial struggle, to surrender to cruel destiny?
Or will you find within yourself the strength to transcend the limits imposed by fate,
To rise from your own ashes, like the Phoenix of mythology?
The answer lies hidden in the depths of our collective soul, silent and mysterious.

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