Immortal are these towers of Babel that scrape the sky for words of precise wonder.

Based in rubble are these tall vibrations of description that owe their origins to the majestic dirt.

Catch the wind as the trees form syllabi with no vocabulary to guide the mystical sounds never spoken.

Oh does man feel himself courageous as he shakes those cords in a rudimentary fashion.

Even stones can carry a tune of sadness in the winters frozen bitterness of spite.

So what makes these words so wise when they cannot speak to the earth or hear her pain and sorrow....merely waves against boulders with no feeling, no soul.