A Message from the End of the World

And I know the sea is wide and lonely,
and its secret name is time,
the island is solitude,
here of at the end of the world,
a message in the bottle,
once upon a time,
there was a soul like you,
who had nothing to lose,
that lived in an empire,
of concrete and steel,
that gave oath to the slogans
of freedom, and love for all,
but fell to the pull envy,
and fear, greed, and hate.
In its December before the great fall,
it jailed all dissidents,
plundered all the land,
poisoned all the air,
but the elites didn't care,
slumbering to wake each day,
in their towers of steel,
cocooned sarcophagi,
dead and pale,
like the Morlocks of Well's
dystopian tale.
They fed through the machine of
exploitation, through prison slavery,
and crushing automation,
through financial instrumentation,
did they plunder all,
subjugate all,
corrupt all,
seduce all,
poison all,
til the sea rose, and swept all their subjects away,
Who found refuge on tiny islands across the sea,
the sea that is half the earth.
And the Morlocks grow old and fat on boredom,
because everyone else is drowning or dead,
all their machines are breaking down,
because the engineers died, before the machines
learned how to fix themselves.
And they rage at their great leader now,
his gold god spiring statue on the deck,
of their tower, that rises above the sea like a ship,
all the good things that are gone,
and nothing to do, but watch to old,
visuals, of how life used to be,
of all that beautiful thing called culture,
they made their minions fear, and hate,
burn at the stake, for the sake of what?
How much is enough?
How much does it take the satiate the insatiable?
And so in her prison, she wrote the letter,
to the souls across the sea of time,
remember, these mistakes,
remember, this land of plenty,
it was not always so old.