is cramped by language. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis that language creates a world out of words could be a wrong theory. It is the digging for that inspires the minters. Poets reign. For if the word is god, thoughts unnamed roam in the void. But if the Lord made the word for comfort, then curiosity and chance are king. And I can trust any hint of actuality to be transmittable. I knock upon an answering universe.