through the dancing

And the wind goes on howling 

and the trees go on swaying 

and the tears go on falling.

See the world doesn’t work the way I thought it would

and I so desperately wanted to leave. 

Living in the great wide I don’t know 

is a lot like living in the snow,

its cold and soft. 

It has been awhile

awhile since I’ve strung the words to the string. 

And the waves still push and pull and push

and the sun still sings and sighs and sings

and the moon still shines and hides and shines.

See I didn’t think the world would be this wide

and I don’t think I’ll see it all. 

I think the creative process is a lot like dancing, dancing with yourself. Constantly recalibrating and adjusting to the new rhythm, the new song. It’s an endless dance of two steps here and one step there on repeat for years until, all the sudden its three steps and a leap. So you falter and fumble till you master the leaping and then is begins anew, all over again. 

But you see many say that dancing and fighting are but one in the same its only the intent that changes the outcome, weather it be a kiss or a knife. So with but one degree of separation I think the creative process can become an awful lot like fighting. 

And I used to be a dancer

and it made me a quitter. 

*Writers note: I wanted to take another crack at some poetry because I haven’t in quite some time. I set out to write this as a poem and it turned into a combination of a poem and a regular blog post. But then as I was reading it back to myself I started to sing it, and I don’t really sing for others, but I wanted to still share it all the same. So if you can hear the little sad tune through the blank spaces I hope you can feel it too.