Just exactly where are we going. Only time will tell. Consider the poem by Arthur Guiterman.
“On the Vanity of Earthly Greatness
The tusks which clashed in mighty brawls
Of mastodons, are billiard balls.
The sword of Charlemagne the Just
Is Ferric Oxide, known as rust.
The grizzly bear, whose potent hug,
Was feared by all, is now a rug.
Great Caesar’s bust is on the shelf,
And I don’t feel so well myself.”
To put this in a more short term perspective, we offer:
“You feel as though we’re likely doomed,
because a showdown shortly looms.
Your cheer, though, follows your bodily health,
but I’m not feeling so well myself.”
– Confederacy of Drones