Ere the Eve of Truth

On the eve of the end of the world
Between the noon and midnight of a thousand years past
Therein lies the truth that shall eternally thrive.
It hides, not willing to be revealed to any common eye,
A deified secret that lives on a level incomprehensible to mere Man.
Ere the wind had blown, and ere the rain had fallen,
Still did the absolution of this enigma come to be.
To peep vigilantly into the memory of the earth,
Culling vehemently in an attempt to eke these tainted mysteries from their grave,
Will, all in all, slowly turn into a futile deed.
For, there is no way to behold the sagas of Life itself.
Even no reviver could raise enough souls from the underworld
To fetch the secrets in the darkest corner of life.
What is this mass treasure, this unreachable, unattainable reality?
Whatever it may be, we shall never know
Lest the hand of God touch upon our flesh
And open our eyes to what has always been there before us.