In the mythic world you are:

You are the taste of sour lemons on a Winters day.

You are the impossibility of a of a cold flame, a frozen sun, a boiling glacier and a sane hatter.

Your are the distance between a fair king and a sadistic queen.

You are a nine-tailed fox cunningly stalking your victim.

You are a swift yet elegant rabbit gliding in the abyssal midnight.

You are a  titanic, thunderous giant stomping the weak earth.

You are myth itself.