When the sun has gone to sleep
And the stars begin to shine
I awake and start to write
And my words begin to rhyme.
Why is in the stillness
When all around begins to rest
That my words begin to flow
And the poet’s at his best?
Could it be it takes a while
To wind down from the day
That spins extremely fast
For me to know just what to say?
Or is it simply just a phase
Of restless desperation
That opens up the soul
And I find my inspiration?
Could it be when defenses start to fall
That true feelings start to surface
And when that realness finds a platform
It gives a poem its purpose?
Or is it life that takes a pause
To realize the reason
That the words begin to rhyme
At least just for a season?
I don’t regret a moment
When the thoughts begin to flow
Because it’s in those simple moments
That in my heart I finally know.
That God placed me in this world today
For in the brightest day or darkest night
I’ve been called to share my story
To sing, to laugh, to teach, to write.