Through use of remarkable imaginative powers, where I coalesce my being with the great psychic forces that lie hidden from the eyes of the profane, I have recently witnessed the great moment in time when we can truly be said to have become human; this moment being the formation of language by our upwardly mobile ancestors.
The scene: A cave somewhere in the Eastern Europe. Four hairy, smelly individuals; animal of strength & stupid of expression, gazing with all the rapture of dumb beasts at another being, but this one endowed with the faint but unmistakable signs of a deeper intelligence. He has a piece of flint held purposefully in his right hand, & emanates an air of somewhat hesitant pedagogical authority. He bursts forth into speech:
"First what we have to establish are the rules of grammar. Otherwise, all will be shapeless chaos & the darkness of utter nebulosity. If we want to make ourselves understood we need to have a firm & vigorous grasp on the subtle intricacies of our tools of communication. Grammar is the bedrock. Our language must be a perfect instrument for both the utilities of everyday living and the abstractions of philosophical discourse; able to probe & discern the subtlest shades of consciousness, and yet perfectly attuned to the rudimentaries of day to day living. One must not scorn the prosaic."
At this point I was called back to the concerns of this world, but, and with a feeling of pride, I quickly scribbled the lines,
More true than you did know."