Starting from Farmington where I grew up,
seventeen years old, in the dawn of life,
I set out to shape the world in my image,
hoping not to cease until death.

And with my pen I build myself a castle,
a thing with thoughts for stones and art for mortar,
and it goes on clouds with capricious will,
taking me where the wind or fancy takes.
And with this muse-weft fortress I have no fear,
for to fear is meaningless, there should be no restraint,
merely reckless abandon as I fling my hair to the four corners,
laughing in a voice that could shake the stars
and bind them to my will.

In my arrogance I would be remiss if I did not mention
that I am at peace in this moment, free to contemplate
leaves of grass and the face of the moon,
to do as I will ere it harms none,
to sound a barbaric yawp o'er the fabric of my world.

An' if death comes afore I've changed the world,
let this book stand as testimony-
there was something beautiful that passed here,
leaving footprints that she, smirking,
dares you to follow.