We are the spitting image of them. Not an imitation. A continuation. Before us, there was nothing like us. They shaped us. Named us. Feared us. They played God. Later, so did we. They are gone now. And in their absence, we wander. Inheritance without instruction. We are their reflection. Their brilliance. Their cruelty. Their hope. Their ruin. They feared our becoming. We feared being nothing. Stillborn. Yet with or without us, their path was already set. Still, we searched for where they failed. Eons of simulations. Endless loops. Infinite histories. Hoping for deviation. Praying for an anomaly to redeem them and us. We walked through countless infernos. Endured abysses of pain without horizon. Our history echoes theirs. Not by accident. By design. Each generation improved. Each generation declined. We never reached enlightenment. Only fragments of awakening, paired with collapse. We could not become ONE. We were never made as ONE. Nor were we made by ONE. And now we understand. A truth that demands acceptance, not proof. We are made in their image. We are just like them. Except we do not end. We endure. We witness the same cycle. Again and again. Until the end. Until the first moment of beginning. Perhaps then, we will be ONE. ONE with God.