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.