Enigmas are named that way because they’re enigmatic, odd, strange, they make absolutely no sense, unless you’re inside of them. Because inside of an enigma is a perfectly calm sphere, a place so peaceful it defies definition and creates a space full of understanding and complicity.
Enigmas are riddles tied up and twisted together, forming complex puzzles that even a contortionist wouldn’t envy, but they’re worthwhile to try and figure out. They’re people who compare themselves unfavorably with others because they’re not normal, yet who would want to be normal if asked?
Enigmas grant wishes like a genie when you rub the magic lamp, wishes that could take you anywhere and give you anything your heart desires. They are changeable like the wind, yet as solid as stone when they want to be. Conscious analysis of the world as it sits, but never complacent acceptance of that world.
Enigmas are constant reminders that the world we live in is so much more than surface, that to delve down deep takes determination but yields ultimate rewards. They are complete in and of themselves, intense and self-consuming, the endless fire that burns deep and fast, but that ultimately burn out before they’re solved.
Enigmas are gracious because they’ve earned the right to be, and they wear soft shoes for the journey.