They are not some deity to be worshipped,
nor a marble figure to be appreciated from afar,
they just are not.
They are rawness made into flesh,
a universe full of tiny shiny stars,
fire traveling on electrical signals
from one neuron, to another, to the brain.
They are a mess: hot, and dry and wet,
pain, and pleasure, and frustration,
sweetness and bitterness,
a bunch of sensations.
They are a taste, a smell,
lickable, touchable, breathable.
They are inside and out,
everything and immaterial at the same time,
they are a reason and a consequence
the good, the bad, and all in between.