If you are here to summon my story, you must remember you are listening not to me, but to your own mind. My purpose in life is to move, peak in the breeze, bubble under the influence of air, travel from my source to the place where gravity pools. I am not your philosopher. I am not your teacher. Listen to the river that flows inside of you. Where has it been? Where is it going? You need me to caress the parts of yourself that are parched and aching, but I only swirl around your fingers. It is true. I am a sculptor, but I cannot carve a path for you.