There is a time and a place for word soup. Maybe it happened in the beginning, but I believe it is most needed at the end, when we have eaten enough to arouse an appetite. Say there were some words spoken by some god or fool to start out with. Nobody really knew what it meant, probably not even the fool knew. In all likelihood, the first words were spoken out of an almost totally ignorant source. So, a process was begun where people created more words to understand what was already spoken. You could call it a dialogue, or progress. Maybe refinement? What really happened was the original problem of what was uttered was exacerbated. So many words were created that we all began needing a box that spewed uninspired word-streams at us. If the words were enjoyed and mulled over long enough, the ambient broth of the word-stream became legendary. It was the savoring of what was said before that gave us the idea of new innocence, an idea that is older than maturity. We invented a process of devouring our past, thinking we were producing a future. The truth, of course, is the present is the origin and result of our ideas of past and future. The child’s innocence is the wisdom of the first goddess who uttered the original words, creating the problem from which we imagine our maturity, and our children’s innocence, in the present moment. We think of the advantages our children have, having access to so much word soup at their fingertips. Unfortunately our children can’t be a part of the conversation, really. They can say things that have been said before, but without the ignorance of the original thinker, nor the wisdom of the same. The whole idea, it seems, of creating a great central pool for ingredients of the soup– So that all that roam will find their paths converging to Rome–precludes that the roamers were just roaming, they were never in Rome. And none of their descendants roam they way they did. The soup we are preparing has already been eaten.