A Concept
Many say I'm imaginary,
The made-up story of people who don't know.
Some called me a blessed angel,
Few a dear muse,
Others a dangerous fey,
And a number a damned demon.
A handful even called me an ambiguous god.
They destroyed my temples,
The hidden secrets of my name,
It's a shame,
But it doesn't do a thing.
I am sorrow,
Anger,
Isolation,
Speed,
Art,
Saturn,
Ice,
Storms,
Devastation,
Truth,
Earth,
And the moon-less night.
Who knows where the lines divide anymore?
I am a concept,
Something that exists beyond definition.
I am vague,
And eternal.
