1 Corinthians 14: 11 Poem by Justin Phillips

'But if I don't understand a language, I will be a foreigner to someone who speaks it, and the one who speaks it will be a foreigner to me.'
1 Corinthians 14: 11

You don't understand
the hands
I am working with:
a wordsmith,
a Creator
dancing along the equator
of an inner world.
I should smother
another
moment with you,
perhaps a lack of air
might provide a care
or comprehension
of my personal
dimension.
I wonder if under
that smug smile and ego
is a path
where we go
to connect,
to bond,
to get inside each other
and find
the other mind,
the other heart.
But where do I start?