(On a song writing course we were given 15 minutes to write stream of consciousness. This is my result.)

Heart beats, hands shake,
Feeling like a big fake,
In my head it’s butterflies with wings,
But I can barely find the strings,
On my guitar, which I know well,
But just right now you couldn’t tell,
That when I’m calm and home alone,
Not one missed note,
Not one missed tone,
But that’s the nature of the beast,
That must be tamed,
And then released,
The beast that ruffles every feather,
So sometimes I am not sure whether,
I can do this properly,
I need to train the beast to see,
That this is where I’m supposed to be,
That with the presence of a quiver,
Slight tremolo and nervous shiver,
This is where my light’s revealed,
Where broken parts of me get healed,
Despite the twitching ruffled feather,
This is where it comes together,
That behind the nervousness there’s more,
A feeling anchored to my core,
That there within my chambered heart,
Music is the one true part,
The sacred chalice, golden key,
That shapes and shines the inner me,
And though I really can’t say why,
And know that I might never fly,
My hope will never yield its place,
So keep the sky above me open,
Just in case.