Greetings, Unborn Ones, now asleep in the dark womb of the future. Greetings from we who were once as you
are now and like whom you will one day be. We too hoped and feared, doubted and believed.
Were you choosing a gift from the past to the future, what would it be? The golden treasures hoarded by kings?
The bright jewels beloved by queens? Is worldly wealth still so important to you? If that would be your choice
above all else, we are disappointed, for our labours have been in vain.
Would you prefer the secret of life, of eternal youth? Have you altered so little from those who live and laugh
today, with no thought turned towards the future? This thing which seems so desirable, were it yours would you
value it? Would it never pall? Would you still be grateful for it after a thousand years have passed? The answer
would be "yes" if this life were all, the beginning and end, complete in itself. But might not this life be no more
than a prelude, an introduction to something infinitely greater? Is the riddle still unsolved, the secret of the ages
still well kept, known only by a few, even when these words are read? How many generations have passed
without progress? Does mankind still lie passive like driftwood upon the sea of spiritual apathy, driven back and
forth by changeable winds and conflicting currents, making no headway?
Could we leave you the knowledge enabling you to live a life without toil, surrounded by every luxury and
pleasure; a magic stone granting every desire, an all healing potion, the ability to fly or know all things on Earth,
would any of these satisfy the desires of your heart and fulfil your dreams? We who lie so far back along the
road trust you have progressed beyond such petty aspirations.
It is beyond our power to give such gifts, and were they ours to bestow we would withhold them, for unless a
gift confers a benefit, it were better not given. With the wisdom of your generation, tell us, which of the things
mentioned would really benefit you or even prove less bad than good? Or do you still remain unaware of your
true nature and needs?
Who you are, how you speak and dress (are you even like us in form?) we cannot know or imagine. This alone
we know as truth, you are brother beings of ours and travel the road we once trod. We share one destiny and
have the same true goal, though perhaps no more know in your day what these are than do in ours. Like to us
life comes to you unbidden, it is fraught with problems and difficulties; it alternates between light and shade,
and like us you wonder what awaits at the end. You, too, are victims of Earth's delusions; you, too, find Truth
and Perfection beyond your grasp and you, too, aspire to beauty and goodness. These things we know about you,
these things must be or you would not exist.
Your needs are no different from ours, but do you now know with certainty what they are? Your life serves the
same purpose, you are part of the same pattern, you are ruled by the same impulses and urges, but do you know
why and to what end? We know you are without certainty and assurance about what lies beyond the veil of
death, for these cannot be given while man remains no more than man, and doubtless like us you remain
suspended between doubt and belief.
Our Unborn Friends, whatever your circumstances of life you are the children of the past and heirs of those who
have lived and died. We trust you have no cause to reproach those who once held stewardship over your estate.
But whatever you think of the heritage, you cannot put it aside, any more than you can refuse the obligations of
life. Maybe it brings you the happiness and security, the peace and plenty we never knew. If so, this will remain
unread, for to you it would be a wilderness of words serving no purpose. If you have so much, if you have
progressed so far, nothing we could give would be of benefit. To the traveler, information about the road behind
is worthless. If this is your state we hail you, we are proud of you, our worthy children of light, conceived in the
long dark years wherein we laboured and ploughed our own short furrow. You have done well and our greatest
joy would be to stand beside you as you exaltingly reach out for the crowning glory of godhood.
But you may be no more enlightened than we, in which case accept our offering as a token of our regret, our
desire to make amends on behalf of those who preceded you, for if you remain lost in spiritual darkness the
blame is theirs and not yours.
This we give you, The Hidden Books containing the accumulated harvest of wisdom and Truth garnered over
the generations, the bread and oil which sustained us and never diminished. May they serve you in your day as
well as they served us. Above all, may you be sufficiently enlightened to receive them, for today we are
persecuted because of our books, and most who treasured and guarded them are now dead. We can only consign
these books to the ground and destiny, trusting they will be called forth at the proper time and in a receptive
generation.
These books, which we hand into the keeping of time, were written under the authority of revelation and
inspiration. Containing Truth, their message cannot be attacked by time, for Truth is an eternal youth.
We make no claim to exact and accurate statements beyond the possibility of error and misinterpretation, for
words are frail messengers. They are fallible things unable to transmit accurately from mind to mind. Also, we
cannot tell how they who resurrect the books will deal with the contents. They are written in letters known to the
learned, but learning changes with the generations. These books are the glorious embodiment of Eternal Truth,
but the words and expressions are unworthy garments so that misconception and misunderstanding are not
possible. Words are servants of the fallible mortal sphere and when called upon to serve a realm of greater things
prove inadequate. Therefore, be not like some petty-minded ones of our generation who say, "The letters are
misplaced and the words ill used." They examine each blade of grass diligently, but fail to discover the purpose
of the meadow. Such men lack insight and seeing only the bare letters say, "These tell me all, there is nothing
more". We have a saying, "do not judge a place of instruction by its bricks". Wisdom, being eternal, doubtless
this will apply no less in your generation.
So, Unborn Unknowable Ones, we humbly tender this, the gift of the past which we could not pass on
otherwise. If you have advanced far along the road towards greatness, it will have no value; but if you still dally
or have wandered away, lost in the illusive mists of worldliness and none answers your cries, then take this hand
extending out of the past. It will guide you faithfully and well.
Down through the generations men have been persecuted, have suffered and died so that Truth and Goodness
might prevail, remember them. If the world is good, then your peace and pleasures have been brought by their
sacrifices. If it is not, then you must not quibble over the cost to yourselves in making it good. Surely no
torments and terrors in your days could exceed those of the past!
Farewell, Unborn Ones, with these few words we have reached from the day of the present into the night of the
future. We have planted the seed, will it grow or rot in the ground? What crop will it produce? We cannot know.
Let fate deal with it as it will, we have gathered the seed, flailed and winnowed it and kept it with every care.
We have planted well, we can do no more.
May life deal better with you than with us. May you never be denied the comforting hand of hope. Farewell!
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Originally posted by Dumpster Diver
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