A Discourse On Mutable Lexicon

The tongue, that restless muscle, shapes chaotic sound into the immutable law of the word. Language has always been the greatest of human creations. It’s a glorious inheritance. We speak in echoes of the past, borrowing breath from those who catalogued the cosmos long before our time.

Yet, permanence is the illusion of a single lifetime. Language is a river. It flows, adapting to the terrain of need. Where once a word required a generation to cross a continent, now a novelty of phrase can circumnavigate the globe in a single second, achieving consensus before the dictionary can even register it.

Observe the modern dialect: the abbreviations, the portmanteaus, the ephemeral jargon. It’s strange, yes. But isn't this the gloriousness of it? These prove the human impulse to name, to relate, and to grow, remains intact. The lexicon is alive.