The Future Manuscripts I - Humulus to Stranger

Greetings mate,
Guess its thy fate,
That my needs opened to thou gate.
And though its late,
for astonishment high rate,
How the message is left on such a slate*.  

Well HUMULUS am I from the days of yore,
And Humulus calls for a favor he bore,
And therefore he write to thee, futured centuries, score.
The world knows Me for my skill, my art, my chore,
For Me is next to He, Him and more,
And I, Humulus, come to take honour of thy core.

But fore Humulus must know who are thee,
Let me know of kingdom rest, what works do thee spree,
The oak of honour of my, that comes first, Are thee use of mee.
For the kings of kings, I am the Queen bee,
Every decision of the past goes through my magic, my see,
And under every throne, I am on the lee.

Run thou eyes hind this slate, oh stranger, that I sent,
Do thy eye catch hold of a bag and a crescent,
The bag contains Zyfilus,I created, is an element.
Write me thee reply and sprinkle the Zyfilus scent,
T'is to be posted in areas of sand content,
To let it reach my goldly home tent.