I am Superman. I hope inspire mankind to great heights. I am an ideal, a beacon to the masses, a light to guard and watch over them. I am a superhero who flies over their heads and smashes badguys with laser pistols and death rays. I hit supervillains, snag bank robbers, and prevent alien invasions. Is this all there is to being good?
I am Kal-El of Krypton. The last son of a scientist, a man of cold logic, yet emotionally driven to save me when the collapse of a great culture came upon his own people. I know my father's mind for it is my own. I see all that is around me, process all that humanity does to itself, and try to figure out how best to save them from themselves.
Superman sits on an asteroid floating in space. To the left of his head is an image of a young hopeful farmboy Clark Kent, glasses and flannel, smiling and genuine, floating above the Earth. The the right is the cold calculating look of Kal-El, a young Kryptonian in traditional Kryptonian garb, floating beneath the Sun.
Superman looks angsty and concerned, not sure of himself, kind of slouched on the rock in space, his chin resting in his palms.