What is it that possesses us to load our finest clothes, most important cords, and books about life in lands long ago that ruled the world, and fly where some other language finds us sorry we did not learn it better?
Will the ancient walls know the answers to what caused those in power to judge themselves on life’s highest social rim?
Do the buildings so much more artistically hopeful in splendid glory and pride than our youthful sky lines teach us ways of freeing dear beauty or man’s egomaniac side?
Lands almost too old for Americans to comprehend, lure us east, a day in the plane, to look upon and bring to our senses long gone civilizations.
What do we hope to achieve in our following the footsteps of gladiators, prisoners and nobleman? Will we be shocked by how cruel they were or how much we have not learned all that much more than they knew?
Finally, will time passing now feel different on this country’s young found soil? I aim my compass out to places that most only see in made up movies, ready to open my eyes, if only for a few precious days, to the homes worn by time and listen as they tell us life marches on and on.
