Legacy of Babel

Stones were once stacked layer upon layer toward the clouds. At that time, there was only one language in the world, and people stood shoulder to shoulder, believing that as long as the tower was high enough, they could reach out and touch the edge of the sky. Punishment is not thunder and fire. He merely shattered the language. The craftsmen who were passing bricks side by side a second ago could not understand the shouts of their companions in the next moment. The shouts turned into harsh noises, good intentions turned into arguments, and countless intentions floated in the air, unable to be firmly delivered to the heart of another person. The quarrel spilled over the scaffolding, the work came to a halt, and the crowd scattered in all directions across the land. Many years later, only the broken base of the tower remained. The curse did not dissipate with the crumbling masonry. It is no longer as simple as not understanding what the other person is saying. Even if we speak with the exact same accent and speak the exact same words, there is still a crack left between our hearts that remains of the collapsed tower. When you express your sincerity and express it through words, it will inevitably be distorted a bit. The enthusiasm you tell may only have another meaning if it falls into the ears of another person. We try to build a new Tower of Babel over and over again. I long for someone to understand me completely, but every time I reach out, my fingertips often only catch misplaced echoes. Perhaps from beginning to end, we are destined to only look at each other through a crack.