The First Language

I have been to the Tower of Babel,
when trapped in my sleepless dreams.
There, I learnt that all Gods are cruel.

We were not arrogant, we were beautiful,
yet we were cast down and broken,
and the real language of all humanity died.

The Gods command us as if they're worthy
of being praised and loved, despite being
tyrants; demagogues; false rulers.

They have told us the stories
of our ancestors in their narrative,
hoping to blind us to the truth.

And the truth is that We,
the blessed humans and animals alike
were the ones who created the Gods.

Also thieves they are, for they grew powerful
enough to take away from us our greatest creation:
the first language.

But I have seen them in my dreams,
the Gods dreading the infinity that lies
within humanity's potential,

and that we were enslaved due to their envy
when they realized they could not mimic
our real language.

But how beautiful the first language was,
how blessed am I to hear it in my dreams
despite the tragedy of my own existence:

I long so for it, to learn to speak it.
Our first language - our greatest creation.
I wish I could speak.

But mute am I, even in my dreams,
yet I am blessed enough to hear it:
the Singing that the Gods envied

enough to curse us for eternity,
but despite being thieves that stole it,
the cruel Gods could never Sing

as beautifully as our human potential.