what’s in a name?

I wish you spoke that celestial speech
that sometimes always seems to reach
inside me where my Thoughts lie milling
in swirling clouds, constantly filling
my mind with furiously sleeping green
Ideas — uncolored until seen;
Oh, if you could only learn to speak
some decent Extralinguistique
perhaps you could then browse my Soul
and read non-linearly as a whole
the essence of my Being and then
you’d have grokked beyond my own ken
my Who; amid constellations we’d
discuss that which we want and need
from Life and from this heartbeat; yes,
Communication would then lack the stress
of finding the right words to use
and needing to always carefully choose
them. I’d be free to share each thought
in its rightful Context, carefully wrought
as part of a concentric-layered leek-
like mesh; en-onioned, so to speak
by intimately nested energy fields.
it’s funny how our Language yields
us often less than what we say
— and prompts a desire for Some Day
when we could live, fully unconstrained
by the Syntax and Semantics trained
into us by the only world we know of;
understanding me wouldn’t be unheard of
if you were only fluent in the Language of the Stars.

january seven through eight two thousand and four