MY CRY TO THE MOON

Let it be known, let it be seen.
A god gave me eyes of glass, and a heart of plasma.
My bones are aging, but as the world turns cynical, my soul overflows with youth.

Creation is a virtue, and my sword slashing through canvas and a souless box breeds a new light into the world. A guide of humanity for the non living.

Tools, old and new, wet and pixelated, I have come to thee on this day to prove that my love is guarded with a guiding light. A light so interlinked with my essence, a light that shines through the darkest caves, I present the lit voids of the world.

I present my artistry as meaning of light enveloping the cruelest dark. The mud, the scum, the blood of the earth shall flow through my fingers, and the bile of the world shall rasp my voice. I am here to prove the light in the darkness, for a god gave me eyes of glass, and a heart of plasma.