History is only a repetition of what we love and what we hate?: A poem 

Did the ziggaurats of Eden 

crumble to dust because  

their poetry was not stone but paper? 

Did they conceive that civilisation 

had a fate written before its conception? 

But could we believe the legacy 

is a footprint misnomed as mythology,  

when a posterity writes off antiquity 

as bereft of knowledge? that ignorance 

and lack of respect entitles us  

to deem prehistory as a construction   

of hunter gatherers. There is more soul 

in the stillness of wisdom that doesn’t  

frontier the advancement of technology 

What did humanity wake up to in the waters? 

a progression into decadence or a systematic complex restructuring? 

All space is a framework of measurable dimensions 

that makes its life eclectic, yet repetitive 

And we may always be a story that is retold 

in a different expression of it. Because, 

different things take turns to reassemble themselves 

and we are all a mutiny of what we love and what we hate 

that charaterises destiny as much as it prevailed over prehistory