alone in a dark room.
candle lit, nag champa burning.
blowing melodies on the trumpet; songs i wrote…years ago, maybe even decades.
you’ve never heard them.
maybe one day you will.
but for now, they’re mine.
i wrote them to heal me.
they’re cathartic…my soul is blessed by them.
alone in a room.
blowing melodies on my trumpet.
i’m wherever i want to be, with whomever i want to be.
i’m in new orleans. i’m in shanghai. i’m in istanbul.
addison, plano & farmersville tx…
all three; simultaneously, equally.
i’m cleansed by His holiness yet mired in my flesh. both sinner and saint.
i’m discovering the beauty of that which has always been, accepting the reality of who i am and what i ain’t.
i’m sitting in a room playing melodies on my trumpet. my daddy’s trumpet.
i’m finding heaven in this music and God.