I am from lands which weep rain unto us all;
From cozy tapestries of cloud and trees like the fingers of God.
I am from the sweet, bastard child of Gaia and Hephaestus,
Where Nature dances the waltz with Industry
 In surprising harmony.

I am from the womb of the universe unto the breast of Gaia.
I am from villages of mockingly misused messiahs and superficiality.
Of love, hope, dreams, kindness,
Crucified on patriarchal phalluses and Siren dollar signs.
I am from lands terrified yet obsessed with our innate sexuality;
From a culture of devout, lustful worship for violence.
I am from a gonzo spirit;
Middle fingers censored, mouth taped shut.


I am from the pleasant paper pages of books;
Of the intelligent ink and the cascading colors of comic books.
I am from vinyl rock albums;
Lyrical odes to passion and pain and pleasure.
I am from beautiful worlds etched into DVD’s;
Picasso etched unto the surface of a Looking-Glass.


I am from the Heavens of Fiction and the throne room of Storytellers,
From whence I play God.
I am from an infinite yet ever-expanding universe of Stories.
I am from Humanity:
Flawed, grotesque, yet beautiful;
A blessing and moreso a curse unto the Universe.