A Message to the Future

When I first encountered
The Hari Krishnas
Back in 1969,
They seemed
A radical offshoot
Of the Hippie movement.
They were strangers
In a very strange time.
I first saw them
Selling flowers in airports
And walking the streets
With shaved heads
Wearing bizarre outfits
And singing chants.
I perceived them as
The lunatic fringe
Of the flower child era.
I didn’t encounter them again
For almost thirty years,
And when I finally did,
They were nothing like
What I remembered.
They had established temples
And religious communities
Across the United States,
And their members
Are fully integrated into society,
Working for a living,
Just like anyone else.
I discovered they are followers
And an ancient faith
Which emanated from India.
Their espousal of vegetarianism
Is definitely in tune
With the times,
And they have become masters
In the art of meatless cooking.
Some of their beliefs,
Like reincarnation,
May never garner
General acceptance,
But that doesn’t hinder
Their devotion to their faith.
From what I observed,
There is a spirit
Of tranquility about them
A gentle peacefulness
That I find intriguing.
At the time I was
Reintroduced to them,
The Hari Krishnas
Were in the process
Of constructing
A massive temple in India
Designed to last 1000 years.
As an engineer,
How would I go about designing
A structure to last that long?
Would it be a modern day
Version of the Egyptian pyramids?
The idea of doing that fascinated me!
The temple is an attempt
To communicate something
To a future perhaps
Fifty generations from now.
It is a message of sorts.
I suppose if I was one of them,
The one thing I would be
Most keenly interested in
Would be preserving
And passing on is my faith.
I would probably
Summarize and synthesize
My beliefs down to
Their most elemental form,
And would enclose those
Within a time capsule
Embedded within the temple
To be opened
One thousand years from now.
Then it occurred to me
That I have no way of knowing
Even what language
People might speak
That far in the future.
Would they be able to
Read and decipher
Anything I had written?
Could they interpret what I said
And really grasp
My thoughts and ideas?
Perhaps as a poet,
I seek eternity
Just like the Hari Krishnas.
I write my thoughts
And observations,
Encapsulating them in poems,
Hoping that my words
Will be read
And passed on to worlds
I will likely never see.
Maybe my poems
Will be translated
As languages evolve
Into the language of common men
Such that my thoughts
Will never be lost.
It seems an integral part
Of the nature of man
To try to communicate
With those yet to come,
To leave some proof
Of our existence.
This we have in common.
I wonder if the builders
Of the Egyptian pyramids
Had these same thoughts
When they built
Their vast tombs
And monuments
That are still there today
Some 4000 years later.
Did they have us in mind
When they built?