Distorted shapes fade,
The faces age,
The pages turn
We make mistakes
Along the way
And from them
Lessons we have learned
More often failures
Than in victories
Still writing
Ancient histories
Concluding
In a moral
Nihilistic
Burning question
In reliving such a process
Is it progress
Or regression?
If for all
Of mortal nature’s
Human races
Have embraced it
In complacency
To sameness
In perpetual stagnation
Or if they, themselves  
Have ever been
Unbidden to its languish
Active agents
In its game
Or merely subjects
To its changes