It happens every so often
When artistic muse eludes
And I take up writing poems
To express my many moods
Words are little pictures
When you think about it deep
Tiny images with meaning
That every letter keeps
The first languages were images
Symbols simplified
Easy to put on paper
When paintings sometimes shied
Calligraphy's an art form
Chinese letters, photographs
Language is crude communication
I'm sure some higher power laughs
But effective enough to last
And whether history's many throes
Sure, things are lost in translation
But that's how the story goes
Esperanto was rejected
And schools fear the Eastern tongue
Language is the vehicle
We express with heart and lung
But does it affect our thought process?
Do Orientals think in different light?
Do we make up the language,
Or are words the wings of our flight?
From Africa with clicking tongues
And Germany with hard throat-spit
And Hebrew with the heavy "tsu"
Every language has its fit
Japanese can express nature
Better than Spanish can
Every tongue has developed
To assist it's language clan
Language is our tool for thought
Letters are psychic's soul
And now if you'll excuse me as
My poems gotten deeper than a US-China hole.
