Who would want to recreate the Earth,
When we already have such a joyous one to explore?
Why pretend you've built it all since birth
When you can marvel in everything that's gone before?
What infrastructure, in road and rail
To allow us passage to places we've never seen?
Without it we'd be telling a sorry tale
In fact, would we ever be able to say what we mean?
See I've travelled the dictionary highways
Venturing boldly through linguistic lanes
Merging to dialects and dark alleyways
To find the most delicate refrains
What joy, when navigating old texts
To find a snicket phrase not often tread
Or to see ley lines of convenience forming next
To slang that will one day be formally bred
To be self-made would surely be miserable
Rejoice in those that helped tamed the absurd!
There is a wilderness of syllables
And danger in an unmapped word
In fact, for those with patience to see it through
I would venture a path that made seem perverse
Rather than build your own language structure anew
Build on ours, and lay down a verse
