"It is said that the man-of-the-thousand-faces doesn't know their own true identity, and that none of the mortal kin have never nor will ever hear sweet words of the true knowledge of their being part lips and bring wonder to beknighted ears that. As such man-of-the-thousand-faces is the Nameless, a hopeless wanderer who is the truest of all Makers. While others seek to name all that is, the Nameless knows that this is a work of evil. For in so naming a thing it puts constraints on its potential to be and to become; to forever close off the potential of it's yet becoming something greater than it already is. With endless possibility the nameless does not fetter themselves with constraints of time or place, they can be many things at once. The tree on the nearby hill, the man who sits in its shade, and the sun in the sky bringing warmth to the world. But men cannot speak to the tree on a hill, or the sun in the sky, and so they must content themselves to seeing the vision of the man-of-the-thousand-faces in themselves and in eachother. For wherever there is the vision to create new what has never been seen nor done before, there is the power of the awesome truth that the nameless one has brought to the people, and so too is there the nameless' blessing. So go into the world and bring with you his mark of the open circle, and incorporate it into all that you do for the unfinished work will always leave open possibilities for the future," the man in a plain tan cassock finishes saying as he steps off the rock and waves to the trees in a wilderness populated only by the beasts of the land, for men have yet to step foot in these lands. But, when they do, the trees will whisper this truth to the young boys who play in their shade, the stream shall gurgle its message to the girls who fetch water for their mother's, and the old shall come to know it in its entirety when they are laid to rest in its soil.