I’m from your wildest imagination,
from razzle and dazzle.
I’m from the little bit of make-up left over
from the previous night’s performance.

I’m from the red-velvet blanket
that hides your secrets.
I’m from the little beam of light
cast down from the heavens.

I’m from Stanislavsky and Shakespeare,
and the eloquent art that envelopes them.
I’m from stage-left
to stage-right.

I’m from a place that is hidden-
hidden from those who cannot embrace it,
hidden from those too bland to achieve it,
and hidden behind a glassy face of nothing.

I’m from everyone who came before me.
A product of their knowledge.