In the end,

Ite,

In the end,
by heat death or the second coming,
all that we've built will end.

The Gods we've constructed,
will guide our hands to keep building,
as time and sand cover all we've constructed.

We've seen it in history,
the rise and fall of empires,
crushed by others, their ideals lost to history.

Is that all to life,
jumping between one beautiful thing to the next,
to merely say we've lived a full life.

Perhaps there is more to beauty,
maybe in our quest to perceive it,
our lives become themselves a beauty.

Like the alchemists before us,
as we fail again to find refinement in this world,
we find that the true thing refined, is us.

I hold this as comfort to the unknown,
on the day our atoms divide into divine,
does Freya choose our bravest to sail through the unknown?

When we sleep,
is it a window into an afterlife,
there will we dream as we dream in our sleep?

Or is it cyclic,
destined to repeat forever,
In the end,