It’s Pouring

It’s pouring outside

and I’ve still so much to learn

I’ve got nothing left to hide

just a carousel I need to burn

 

The raindrops address the page

where my tears were meant to lay

but now I’m center-stage

and everybody’s listening

 

It’s storming outside

and there’s so much I just don’t know

taking a step towards the tide

afraid to step away from my throne

 

The raindrops address the page

where my heart was meant to lay

but now I’m center-stage

and everybody’s listening

 

It’s so calm inside

all these books to read, just flip the page

my mind gently glides

a barn swallow in a sparrow’s cage

 

The raindrops address the page

where my spirit lies, in wait

but now I’m center-stage

and everybody’s listening

 

This is a poem I wrote earlier this morning, and it was inspired by a piece of music I wrote. At first, this poem seems morose. My girlfriend, Hannah, even told me so. It’s not really supposed to make people feel sad, though.That is probably the initial response, but the point is that we need to step out of our comfort zone so we don’t have nothing to say. For me, I’d love to be center-stage someday, and in that moment, I’ll be able to look at all my pages, even the ones laden with raindrops instead of words, and I’ll remember what it felt like when I didn’t know what to say or had nothing to say, and I’ll be able to explain that it’s okay to be in a place like that, too.

My buddy, Casey, told me that it’s okay I’m doing the whole 5-year university thing. He said that, at the end of the day, we don’t tell the story of where we are, but of how we got there. Sometimes, that means utter confusion, disarray, and panic. Sometimes that means a blank stare as you face your bears and lions. And sometimes you know exactly what to do. If that’s you, God bless you, I’ve rarely found myself in that place.

The point is, don’t just turn away when you don’t know what to say – don’t just flip the page of someone else’s story. Burn your carousels and take a step towards the tide. You may be found with a few burn marks, washed up on a shore somewhere, but you will have a story to tell of how you got there, and that is what makes life beautiful.