In these short moments of my sojourn

I have heard much;

Seen much;

Felt much,

Priding in my youthful wisdom.

Socrates, the sage,

Never saw a man bred in cage;

Solomon,with all his divine wisdom,

Could not build a gold-studded kingdom,

Methusellah,ageless ancestor of mankind,

Didn’t live long to see his kind.

Few there are,lids unopened,

Of wonders under the orb,

To my immature eyes.

Tell me, Socrates,

Ever seen an iron curtain melt?

Have you, Solomon,

Ever dreamt of the hammer and sickle,

After an existence of a three-quarter century

Returning to the starting point?

Methusellah, with all the age appropriated,

Did you ever see a colour bar

Three-and-a half-century thick in girth,

Fading into oblivion?

Yet,with my juvenile eyes

I saw these prodigies

Wrap themselves in shame

For sake of their nakedness

And in the wonderment of my enrapture,

I never missed the Hanging Gardens

And sundry other ancient enigmas,

For a minute.