When the Romans caused the destruction of
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the Library at Alexandria,
From palace terrace, distant and above,
the Queen wept for the death of her idea.
The scrolls that she’d collected to contain
real wealth of state, which was information
from diverse philosophies and terrain,
were made to fuel the war’s conflagration.
Finding the future, flammably fragile
not smoke, is what brought the tears to her eyes.
Without knowledge, how to keep minds agile?
How to educate those who’d burn what’s wise?
Before she'd one day take her life for pride,
that night, her dream for posterity died.
The quickest way for me to learn something new is to first understand why I'd like to learn it.