Bring me your tired, huddled masses, Yearning to breathe free. To accept the truth that I, Am more than Swords and Sorcery.

I've written four books, two movies, And at least twenty songs. I've been critiqued many times, But I've only heard a few gongs.

I stand on the shores of destiny, But get rained on every day. Not that I dislike the rain, It's a heckova lot better than say.clay.

I have wisdom that reaches lengths, Beyond all recognition. That makes my venters feel, Like maybe I'm on a mission.

But the only mission that encompasses, This shell of fury and doubt, Is a little voice of balance, That I'm still struggling to figure out.

How much can one do, Before he etches his name in the world. How much can one experience, Before the entire curtain is unfurled.

I ask these questions, For more than most comprehend. I ask these questions not to destroy, But only to mend.

So before you seek judgement, At the pen of fine resolution, Work together with that little voice, To find the solution.

There is nothing more I can say, To change your opinion of me. Only that when the Shadows come, The little voice has the eyes to see.