My tongue, my language!

I have gifts from life, all people have. One of them is valuable, elaborate and complex, twined and tangled as a ball of string that a kitten just played with. Whenever I desire I may use it, ecstatic at the fluttering words that bounce off my lips, like little butterflies emerging from numerous cocoons. This is my language, but why, why, why? I know many do not have this gift of speech. I know it …

…language? All of the beliefs are correct, to some point, but not fully. Those who deem language a penalty or a mere type of communication see what is proper only in what they believe; they think other ideas are preposterous. In truth though, the interpretations of language are just small streams and rivers that empty into the ocean of language, the beauty of humanity, the star of happiness radiating its goodness, the heart of humankind.