The genius is the one who knows
How to invite you in the place
He made -- with him, the world, it grows
In brand new ways, creating space
That never once existed. He
Is who you want to be, and you
Perhaps could be him. You must be
A willing author of the new
No matter where you find it: In
The future, present, past, yourself,
Or others, in your glory, sin
Or shame. Expect it on a shelf
Or hidden in your nuclei --
In atoms or eukaryotes --
It matters not, just don't deny
Your diction or what it devotes
You to unfold (or, better, fold)
Into a web of truth with eight
Eyes staring out from the black gold
Where lies within -- as sure as fate --
The tattered wings and crooked legs
Of souls like yours the only thing
That could be said by you, that begs
The ears and eyes to always sing.
The coward will deny your voice --
The Weak in soul, they will deny
That genius is a valid choice --
A cult, they say -- you shouldn't try
To rise above, to be the best.
They'll medicate you, beat you down --
They'll rig the game and every test
And call unfair your earned renown.
Such evil must be fought with wit
And love for each and every soul --
The kind of love that will not sit
You down, but raise you to your goal.
Beloveds, take the hands of those
Who promise greater beauty -- take
Those hands, for then you'll know you chose
What virtue loves, for its own sake.