In towers of Babel's old tale, I thrive, a bridge where cultures and minds contrive. A symphony of sounds and signs, where meanings dance in rhythmic lines.

A tapestry woven by hands unseen, whispers of the past in tales we glean, It shapes our dance and guides our feast, binding us all, west to east.

Once weighed in salt to reckon a man, A mark of his service in Rome’s stern span. Now softened to wages for labor and craft, I tally the value your hours have amassed.

I am digits you should never ask a woman Bronze, golden and dark and Ice I’ve went through I add more to you as the years pass by Though in love some say I don’t matter

a legend lost, this man was sweet, the kind you'd like to meet on the street. shoes were daily seen, sharing a foot bath was ignorantly considered obscene. everyone mattered, I preached as my cause, as no child should feel lonely or unsafe at all.