… we can no longer create sentences, with their nicely organized subjects, verbs and punctuation?  What emerges is the flow of poetry, rhyming or not.

… the sounds coming out of our mouths are not longer called “talking”?  Instead melodies flow and we soar into the song.

… our lips can no longer press against each other?  The mouth slowly opens and stays there in a round “o”.

… our fingers can no longer close around an object, holding it tight?  All is open to the world, inviting a tiny bird to land.

… the ground is no longer touching the soles of our feet?  We are aloft, taken by the breeze to parts unknown.

… our arms can’t stop growing, rendering shirt sizes irrelevant?  We reach out across the world, wrapping ourselves around limitless beings, and drawing them close.

… writing posts on Facebook no longer exists?  We eight billion are connected instantly in thought and love.

***

You may say that I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

(John Lennon)