There are times when I feel so bottled up that no matter my reserved nature, of being shy, quiet, and distant, I somehow break free from my own chains and allow myself the freedom to be me. With the guitar in my arms or the pen gripped within my fingertips, I embody the soul that swims within me- the courageous one, the fearless one, the God-fearing one.
Most days, I am imperfect, lost, short-tempered, and directionless, but last Thursday, I felt that the gold sitting heavy in my heart was aching to melt out of my mouth like fluid honey. And despite not having a stage to sing, nothing could stop this eruption within me that even the demons in my head were silenced by this necessary pull to sing.
I sang, I sang and did not feel the hours pass me by, and sang until my voice gave out. I do not need a stage, nor do I need an audience, and much like when I write here, I do not need a publisher and a book to be voicing. I do it for my own peace of mind and sanity and I will continue this way even if I don’t see a dime or a penny to my name.
All labors of love should be this way and this is all but a labor of love, for love, in the name of love.