What dost though think, what can thy be? Beheld within these words is me. Search throughout and you won't find any inkling of my kind. Body have I, mind I do not --begin lacking end--start lacking stop. My structure holds feet and with them comes beet in varied combinations. Find an open window in a house of gloom --'tis I. Though open wide, at times I've surely proven to be shy. Just as in a bowl of JELL-O, bowl removed, JELL-O remains, If one should choose to change my form myself I will contain. Unlike this mold of JELL-O though, my structure holds a clue to what I say or how it's said or what it means to you. My song runs smooth with melody and travels plainly to the sea but not in ways that man can see sometimes he must look deeper. Vengeful as the crashoing waves; incarnation of the soul. Many use me to escape the times when life charges its' toll. Created by all, but only by one, letting me out can be less than fun-- received by the rest, condemned by the blind, heated by some for I do not lie.