With little cords at the edge of their throats, men learned to make music of many a kind. To each sound they attributed meaning, with a random frenzy. This is how we came to understand each other, both you and I.
We proclaimed our feelings out loud, for all the spirts and ancients to hear. We painted them across bone and skin, so they remain visible to people who couldn’t hear their silent reverberations in the air.
Thus the languages of men came to being, and through these we painted all our imagery. An art unlike another. For you couldn’t see word as you could a drawing, yet the with each disturbance in the air they spoke to us. It’s how we told each other how our hearts felt.
Forever attuned into the immortal air, passed down from generations. Air that had lived in hearts of each men and mer, and had carried their cries of anguish and love, only now more articulate than before.
The scintillating air, laced with such artful words. Traveling from my the tip of my tongue to you, with each utterance, in your breath, in your very blood. My words, coursing through your veins, so you too become a vessel of my poetry and my pain.
A DESI MUFFIN 