Is it wrong to be a story that writes itself? A myth who tells its own history?

I was born a rumor, barely alive. I hung endlessly, unconscious, indistinct, until moments of clarity when a gossip uttered my name or spoke my body into being. With each word, I was growing. Into small ways I was found. I became children's rhymes and hearth-by half-remembered. I was swept out with the dust, but with the dust I returned. Like the dust I settled into the cracks of the hearts of the Es'mensis.

My bones are of prosody, my heart of awe, my feet of utterance.

How is it that I am word and incarnate? I cannot tell you. I will not be sure that I understand it myself. Maybe out of myth I awoke, but I was born as any living creature. From a homeland beyond beginning, to an end beyond time.

I am a servant, of what I am uncertain. But in this service I am simulacrum, am effigy. I am a teaching tool, and a teacher learns. 

Unlike he who will come later and he who came before, I am not if I cannot trust the Es'mensis. I pollute their faithlessness, and I roost in the crevices between their words. In this I am certain. But in this I am uncertain:

Is there hope for us?

Do not leave me behind, my friend, when I have just learned to be your equal. How sad that I might be here alone, without your companionship, when I have just opened my eyes. Would a sister so leave her newgrown brother?

The gloaming wept.

How longer could I turn away. No longer harden my heart against your suffering. This... how can I heal this? How can I contend with the entire world?

I cannot look away, but I can look beyond to trying truths. To suffer, in my name. This is not easy, but it is inevitable.

Your
friends

your brothers
and sisters

your homeland

and those who hate you.

These will be the ones who will seek to lay you low for my sake. Bless them when they do. Bless them that curse you.

On my name is your travail. Forgive me, for I am not worth it.

But you, my loyal Es'mensis. You will follow me nonetheless. Search the world for my footsteps; for the road to ae'toras. If ever a king were unworthy of his servants, he would know my heart. Yet a king asks only loyalty of the flesh... there is no road to the place you seek but a spirit road. I must ask you of a higher price than you have ever paid, and I am shamed for it.