Yesterday I realized the significance of the development and functioning of our ears before our eyes in the womb.
Today, does what words mean really matter? For a long time I'd been hung up on words, their individual meanings in and out of context. For awhile I didn't want to talk at all because I couldn't resolve meanings and their reality.
Words don't have reality. They are language, as money and art are. Everything we learn in school is language, how to communicate humanity to other humans. It's the rhythm of humanity that matters, not its rhyme. Certainly not its reason.
Poetry, not just of words, for me is the flow of Life, the river that is always moving and always there. Individual notes, words, whatever matter not in and of themselves. It's how they connect with those around them.
Rhyme is internal, selfish, controlled. Rhythm is free, shared, felt. From the heartbeat we hear first as we enter the river of Life, we listen to that rhythm, constantly seeking to be included in it and differentiated from it. It is rhythm that grounds us, makes us human.