This Testament

To thee my country I bequeath
A world of my unspoken dreams
The land of silent make-believe
Wherein the conquerors of schemes
That only can improve this life
Shall evermore be banned

To thee my children I release
Thy spirit, which is thine to keep
Until this land be wakened from
Its silent anaesthetic sleep
That it may never sleep again
That it may never die

To thee my brethren I request
That you will guard this fading word
That you may place the gift of time
Upon it that it may be heard
That everyone might understand
Iconoclastic peace