To leave a message in a bottle
Amidst the sands of time
Sitting open to observers
On the beachs of eternity
unharassed by the waves of years.
To build a great tower
Of outlasting beauty
A monument to creativity
And a pinacle of imagination
To all who stop and look.
To write the ancient tome
That tomorrow's shing knights
Study with care and desperate hope
Of knowledge, long forgotten,
To fell the dragons of that future day.
To join the cry, though now forgotten
To echo down the specious halls of the clock
To be heard in Wisdom's knell
Along with those ancient ones
Whose days are now upbraided by the young
But if I knew that my bottled message
would sink in time's sands
And be consumed by devouring wave
Forgotten by the generations of the not-yet
Still would I write that ill-fated note
For though I write for the tomorrow
I take joy from the message today
Let tomorrow accept or reject my labours
They are mine all the same
And all the same I will bring them forth.