Here in the place where the wind chimes peal like church bells in the Lord’s steeple,
Here in the place where mythical creatures and legends come to play,
Here in the place where traveling the stars is child’s play,
Here in the place where quests and heroes come to dance,
Here in the place where centuries of creative energy are preserved inexpertly but with quiet enthusiasm,
Here in the place of calm before and after the storm,
Here in the place where words play and metaphors gambol in far-flung fields of clover,
Here in the place where crimson and clover make an apt combination,
Here in the place where there’s a song to sing and heaven to pay,
Here in the place where tomorrow is a solemn promise and a rousing adventure,
I greet you with joy and whimsy.
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I was born near the spring equinox, on the first day of the fourth week of March.
Music has always drawn me in, and so has a good story — and sometimes bad stories — and always wonder stories, superheroes and spaceships and dinosaurs and giants and princesses who slay dragons.
All those dreams are in this place, and so I fold a blanket around my shoulders and open the nearest one. The last thing I want to do is stop dreaming.
There are two chairs here. Sit, and enjoy.