Essence

Deus Caritas Est

I am Love and I have wrath, justice, jealousy, kindness.
What do we make of this? "I" as used here is simply a linguistic category; it doesn't look like me, it doesn't walk like me, it doesn't register how thirsty I am. In short, it can never capture the fullness of me. Yet it is suppose to be me. Is this an example of the imperfection of language in describing what truly is? That we have to rely on some intangible, pre-programmed conception of what is? And where did this conception come from? Is it innate or derived?