I used to speak a language that had no limitations.
I could speak to the birds,
Ask them how it felt to fly.
I could speak to the trees,
Ask them how tall they could grow.
I could speak to the wind,
Ask it where it was going.
I could speak to the babbling creek,
Ask it why it was so talkative.
Ah, the visible world was so chatty back then.
I could even speak to the invisible world.
My imagination would sometimes come to life.
It would often be my company through the days.
As I grew older my world became less talkative.

How did that language go?