(I wrote this as a tribute to celebrate and commemorate all of us; All the vercitile and extremely different individuals who cultivate here to ooze their brains and emotions all for the "love of the game." This is a tribute to all authors, writers, and poets.)

I am...
The textual rememberances of a sapien's dwindling pilgrimage.
The alphebetic luminescence in a lethargically eclipsing memory.
An undying remnant of an ever-augmenting anthology of multi-spectral creations.

An author.

I am...
The mind's ever playing reel of fictional truths pasted to an arbor canvas.
A celebratory maestro to the uproaring of a cranial chorus and cerebral symphony.
The choreographer of dancers uncomformed to infinite boundaries or perpetual traditions.

An author.
A writer.

I am...
The omnipotent sire of a million ink stained children with bodies obsessively gnarled and misconstrewed.
A representation of the deviation of these ever so common characters.
The headstong one who finds them their nirvana's; their appropriate places in line(s).
The pen's fain fornication with paper.

An author.
A writer.
A Poet.