So Much More Untitled Than Yours!

...And so you believe that you yourself are the only human-being capable of free and original thought. You think yourself too original even for names, because everything has a name, and that is simply too cliche for one of your works of art, one of your masterpieces, one of your compilations of words that is better than the English language itself. How could a silly jumble of letters express the gift you have given to humanity? What sort of meek and mindless man would dare profane your opus with a label? You call it nothing, because it is mysterious like the air. You call it nothing, because it is more difficult to trace than a fleeting breeze. I call it history, because it sinks like a rock to the bottom of the ocean- to a forgotten mound- along with all the others before it.