language

If not for words, would we still have questions?
Could we think, if our language was lost?
I sense a change already, falling backwards
Forever I am plummeting from a higher elevation
Too afraid to open my eyes.

If not for breath, would we still have air?
Can life grow and change without oxygen?
As my lungs expand, I raise my eyelids slowly
But as always, I only see what I want to see
Too afraid to face the honesty of truth.

The moon is my ghost, as I land softly
I leave no footprints on its cratered surface
One question at a time, one breath after the other
Though I am no magician, I still feel the magic
There is life all around me, holding me up.

Yes, it’s a sport, but it’s also a language,
But it doesn’t matter what language you speak.
It doesn’t matter if you’re black or white,
Doesn’t matter if you’re loud or meek

I asked my dad when I was young,
How all the players understood.
He simply replied that they spoke the same language,
But I didn’t understand how they could.