In the land of nowhere the man of America is to be found,
in the pieces of nowhere America is to be found,
in the cares of nowhere America is to be found,
yet something is America that is everywhere,
existing in the madness of the grave itself,
but persisting in the sanctity of birth itself,
seeing that America is more than a name,
but an exhalation of one’s fate,
in which one shall be—
damned and loved,
prayed and screwed,
martyred and championed,
killed and crowned,
sought and left,
wept and laughed,
yet this is the land of truth,
whatever truth is,
meaning,
it shall always be—
forever and more,
eternally free.

– Frederick Schardt