In the dust of time, we are but ephemeral shadows

In the dust of time, we are but ephemeral shadows, Treading on the realm of a story nearing its end, Echoes of the past whisper hidden secrets to us, And we, blind and deaf, dance on the edge of the abyss. Two nuclear wars, swallowed by the mists of oblivion, Like extinguished stars in the vast universe of lies, The perpetual motion machine, a dream stolen from humanity, Lies somewhere, under the heavy locks of silence. Around us, a macabre symphony of extinction is played, But our ears are plugged with the wax of ignorance, We are actors in a play whose lines we do not know, And the director in the shadows laughs at our naivety. Who are THEY, those who have decided everything for us? Invisible manipulators pulling the strings of our destiny, While we, unconscious puppets, dance to their rhythm, Believing we are free in the cage of our illusions. But there are voices rising from the darkness, Whispering truths that tear the veil of lies, Promising to show us how past civilizations perished, And how ours treads the same path of destruction. Who rewrote history and why? Questions floating in the heavy air of uncertainty, And the answers hide in the shadow of great secrets, Waiting to be discovered by brave minds. In this night of collective consciousness, We stand at the crossroads between ignorance and revelation, Choosing between the comfort of lies and the pain of truth, As our story slowly approaches its end. Are we ready to look into the mirror of reality? To see the hideous face of the lies that have fed us? Or will we choose to remain in our bubble of comfort, Ignoring the desperate cry of truth struggling to come to light?