| CULTIVATE YOUR ECCENTRICITY Sow the seeds of your own developed self. Call down the sun and the rain to nourish and help the rabid roots of summer boots and winter shorts that do purport to plant the pit of my every whim and encourage my deliberate errant hymn to rejoicing in the halls of quirks and a giggle. Without a doubt, my stride is a fickle mistress of non-conformity, disposing of wisdom that the herd mistakes for a mandatory vision. Walking through the bountiful crop I have sown, hearty stalks, to me whisper and moan that this path is one that is less traveled, that straying from it means the mind will unravel into a leash meant for sheep. 10 Everests tall would be this heap of dung, reeking of photo-copied faces; a clone army, goose-stepping, chases me, clutching me back into the fold. Such a nightmare is terrifying to behold: the evisceration of an ascending star: stripped of its light by a morass of dull tar until the light, seed and grain are consumed and no highly decorated flower will bloom. I scoff at such destinies, such a fate. Inuring myself with armor I mate singing off-key to my favorite song with moonlit strolls in the pouring rain; serving you drinks with a tong with hearty laughter at a little pain. My soles walk the street only I have paved for when my compass was my own, I raved and exulted in freedom and flying, my eyes quick and bright; my smile shining. I am in no man�s land I am in my own land the one rule to this nation: �above all else to thine ownself be true� |