Human dialectology is so
girdled with structuralism most
mortals are restricted to walking
on traditional ground levels of
language and knowledge. But as
for me, the swing of my reaching
stretched over boundaries and
over the boredom of limitations.
In the name of poetic justice, I
refused to be limited. I did not
believe one must walk only on the
ground. I wanted to walk on
water, fly in the air, or soar
howsoever my dream dreamed; I
wanted to write whatsoever the
voices of Thunder had inspired to
me and whatsoever the eyes of
Vision had opened to my memory
and insights.
I gave my pen great freedom –
freedom from the limits of
language bound to tradition,
freedom from language
conformities, freedom from
language confinements, freedom
from language dictatorship, and
freedom to open words of
language – both old words and
new words – to additional and
different ways of saying and using
them.
I could not hold back the fire
wound up in my neurons. So it
was, and so be it: there is a
yearning to fly above the hollows,
for destiny has wings.
