I Loved My Way into Language by Sigmund A. Boloz

I loved my way into language. The first sounds of my existence were of adoration. They were words of spectacular beauty. They were the words of my mother And they comforted me and soothed my cries. I am nothing without my language. I loved my way into language. The first sounds of my existence were of joy. They were permeated with miraculous passion. They were the words of my mother And they connected me to brilliance and to the ecstasy    wonderment. I am nothing without my language. I loved my way into language. The first sounds of my existence were of happiness. They were filled with magnificent connectedness. They were the words of my mother And they grounded me in who I am and in how I relate    in my world. I am nothing without my language. I loved my way into language. The first sounds of my existence were of elation. They were filled with splendid definition. They were the words of my mother And they defined my discipline and they structured my beliefs. I am nothing without my language. I loved my way into language. The first sounds of my existence were of jubilation. My first breaths inhaled the air of others who    spoke my language. My first smells were filled with the sweat of my people. My first harmonies were those of my mother's cries    and laughter. Of her songs, her chants, and her prayers. How then, could I be anything without my language, And how could a new language mean anything to me, If it were not shared with love?