Hysterical letters to my sanity

✮who wrote history?

We speak of the unknown with ill at ease tongues, fearful of speaking wrong, speaking right, speaking with fear
I choose to wonder, I choose to read every mythos ever written. Tell me who placed the sun in the sky then tell me who it's god is. Tell me the story of the moon goddess, the north winds, tell me the story of the Sea, with ravaging waves and tides that sink full ships of men. Who's lightening cracks through the sky?, why does thunder rumble?, who painted the roses red? who moved the mountains?, who's crying as is rains?
I ask all these questions into seemingly blank nothingness.
I will write my own stories, tell you why winter strikes, why rivers stream, why summer wept.
And in ten thousand years a young philosopher will look up and wonder themselves, how on Earth could any of this possibly be?
They will read every book, every snippet, inspect every painting and old text of religion to find so many answers, but none will be right, or possibly all of them are!
Oh how exciting would that be!
How very!