He saw me with hunger, with eyes far too crude,
Reduced all my magic to flesh and to mood.
But did you notice the spark in my wit?
The jokes, the brilliance, the fire I lit?

I’m more than the body you hurried to claim,
A storm, a sunbeam, a soul with a name.
So laugh if you missed it, stay blind if you choose—
I’m art, I’m comedy, I’m the best thing you’ll lose.