Every root race is born, lives, and dies. This is the law of the eternal return.
The sky is the home to chance. It is the table where men throw dice. O heaven over me, pure and high! That is what your purity is to me now, that there is no eternal spider or spider web of reason; that you are to me a dance floor for divine accidents, that you are to me a divine table for divine dice and dice players. -Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
This is the path of the razor's edge. There is no guarantee that the Superman shall be born within us.