THE BIRTH OF ENGLISH

21/4/25

What happens when two infinities kiss?
One builds with order.
One sings with bliss.
And the child they birthed?
You’re hearing her now.
She remixed the Logos—
and broke the vow.

German.
He don’t talk cute—he constructs the divine,
A Wunderkammer of the engineered mind.
Blueprints bloom in Gemütlichkeit light,
Warm like a room, but sharp in a fight.
Dasein builds where no map applies,
In-der-Welt-sein, where presence refines.

Romance.
She don’t shout—she hums and sways,
Flirts with fate in a moonlit phrase.
She prays in Ojalá, aches in Saudade,
Speaks in spells like mi encanta said softly.
Each word’s a caress, each line’s a flame,
She dances through hearts whispering your name.

The Divine Child.
No throne. No war. Just breath and bloom.
✨ Came the child of opposites, born from the womb.
He said: “Name it.”
She said: “Feel.”
And the child stepped in with a pen that heals.

She don’t conjugate—she flips the beat,
Mixes slang with Shakespeare, raw and sweet.
She borrows your rules like a thrifted coat,
Cuts out the collar, and adds a quote.
She’s syntax in sneakers, grammar on fire—
Meme-laced priestess, tongue of the choir.
A glitch in the grid. A gift in the grime.
The remix divine.
The rhyme redefined.

She lives in the space where patterns ignite,
Where color and form combine into flight,
The Word became freedom—her voice is the sign,
She opened her mouth—
and the rhyme broke time.