These are not the things of which we speak.
This is what goes on behind the walls.
Inside the steel trap.
These are the secrets, the long lost look.
If you pay attention and listen closely, you can read minds.
Yes, these are the things of which we think.
You must be gentle, they are fragile, like butterflies resting upon rusted metal.
Powerful, still.
Watch them as they ride the trade winds to create hurricane survivors across the world.
Without them, we would be Samson, gone prematurely bald.
Rogaine holds no power like that of a woman with scissors.
The return to glory is always longer than the fall.
You still don't understand. That's okay.
It's supposed to be this way.
You assume the power is yours and we let you.
Truly you are but a receptacle for the things we give.
You have no part of me, nothing concrete to hold on to.
But I have my release. Isn't that the way it works?