That One Cardinal Thing

Isn't it odd?
You and me, us
Speaking
In tongues
We don't even
Understand
We're no
Linguists
By any chance
But speak
We do

Maybe the
Language
Isn't
What is
Important

Maybe
It's the
Conviction
That fierce
conviction
That cannot help
But overflow
And transform
Into words,
Words that are
Wittingly
Conjured up
By the brain
And transmuted
Into the
Movements
Of the tongues
Upper palates
Lower palates
Upper lips
Lower Lips
With the
Elemental
Vibration
Of air
That comes in
And out of our
Nostrils
And mouths
Like sighs
of relief
From joy or
Pain
Producing
Beautiful
Utterances
of
"Ti amo" or
"Je t'aime"

Maybe it's the
Force that
Drives
Human beings
To go beyond
Oddness and
Idiosyncrasies

Maybe it's
The Choosing
To focus on the good
To feed the love
Rather than hate

Maybe it's the
Knowledge
That to say
One
Universal
Seed of Salvation
The words,
"I love you",
Only heals...

Maybe
More than the
Language itself,
In the end
This thing
That claims
To conquer all,
That is blind
Yet all-seeing
Covering a multitude
Of sins
Healing the very sinners
Who say the
Words in
Foreign tongues--

Ti Amo.
Je t'aime.
I love you.

Love.

Maybe
It is the only
thing that
is
Quintessential.
Cardinal.
Important.
The only
thing
That make
This life
Plausible,
Bearable...

Discard
All else
Because
All else
is just noise.

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