You’re waiting for me
Heaven is what I call you
I live again here
I am this theater waiting for the show to start. As I look at the setup I start to think….isn’t that moment of anticipation the greatest feeling for an artist. It’s a mix of anxiety, anxiousness, and adrenaline. You want to touch that stage. You want the people to love what you offer them. You can’t wait to share with them. You can picture it. The excitement. The instant response. The rising energy in the room. That waiting stage is everything hope is. It is untampered possibility. Self Determination never had a better bedfellow than the waiting stage. Revolution is possible there. Freedom is possible there.
Some may call it romanticized. Those people don’t know that love affair. They don’t know the risk. The leap. The courageousness. Of course it’s a romance. Much like a blank page, a waiting instrument, a blank canvas, an empty dance floor, a blaring break beat. It’s a longing hand waiting for your touch.
This is what consistently reminds me of what love can be like. No matter what happens to me in this crazy world of dating or whatever people think they are doing, that waiting stage says, “it’s still possible. Just let me keep you in training for her.” No matter what I face working in the community it shows me the transformative power of purpose. No matter where the hate is coming from it reminds me that the work, the art, the message is more powerful that people’s opinions, perceptions, or sour dispositions.
That anticipation. It keeps my soul alive.