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.
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.
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 (The Kolbrin) 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.
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!
~excerpts from “The Salutation or Prologue to the Bronzebook” within “The Kolbrin”