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You think you know me, but you do not.  You make up stories about me and believe they are true, but they are not.  You mold me into what you wish me to be but I tell you, you know me not.  You give me names that suit you, suit your fiction and your beliefs, but do you ever wonder who I truly am?  Do you ask yourself what I am?

Humans are funny creatures, thinking that believing makes it so.  I can assure you that nothing is farther from the truth.  Outside of your slanted and tiny belief system are wonders untold.  Layers of life you are blind to, by choice and by circumstance.  You turn away from the things that do not fit into your story but those things do not disappear, they live on without your consent or acknowledgement.

Names have power, I will…