The worlds I summon from bleak existence,
Are but allegories, as I sojourn for Truth.
The fabric of my writing is my covering quilt,
To keep my spirit warm in the doubtful cold.
I am dispassionately passionate to challenge
The preset standards by entrenched authority,
By ways of doing things, yet dead in form
And lacking simple purpose.
I am not here to add to public discourse,
To stack my inventions on top of others,
Or to give myself grace in the eyes of those,
I have never met and do not know.
The world I create must be void of self,
To personify the Truth in the needed hour.
In such a time, may the Creator reach through me,
And paint the image of His Soul through mine!