The day someone got written into a book

There was once an Unnamable Thing. It was something Inexpressible, only the vaguest generalities could encompass it, it had no definition, in any sense of the word.

Beyond the fact that it was, nobody could say very much about it.
It was strongest when it was weak.
It was the opposite too.

That everyone knew about it, that only made it more complex, more complicated.

At first it was simple, but how can something be an Unnamable Inexpressible Indefinite Thing and yet be simple?

The truth depends on where you're standing.

Somebody got written into a book today, but what its pages are made of and how you can read what they say is impossible to say.

Although it is possible to know, I have nothing to say.

Words can't express the rest I meant to say.