A Season of Faith's Perfection

(From the movie "Finding Forrester," staring Sean Connery)

"Sit. Go ahead."

"Go ahead and what?"

"Write."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm writing. Like you'll be, when you start punching those keys. Is there a problem?"

"No. I'm just thinking."

"No thinking. That comes later. You write your first draft...with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is...to write. Not to think. Jesus. Is there a chance you might sit down?"

"'A season of Faith's perfection.' What's this?"

"Start typing that. Sometimes the simple rhythm of typing gets us from page one to page two. When you begin to feel your own words, start typing them. [pause] Punch the keys for God's sake! YES! You're the man now, dog. Jamal? Whatever we write in this apartment...stays in this apartment. No exceptions."

A season of Faith's perfection.

When I walked home on Tuesday

And thought of the awkward time just spent with a woman

And somehow through the awkwardness

God brought me back.

The Grace had returned.

When there's nothing else

You live by Grace.

My Pride was so High

That I thought I could function without Grace,

That I could do good deeds, but not have faith.

And somehow, this would be more noble

And more real.

A season of Faith's perfection

When baseball metaphors creep into my day

And long hallways become playground little league games.

I am the great chess master at the center,

The pitcher,

Seeing that a life guided by Grace

Is one that cannot go astray

And the responsibility of one's burden in life

Is often at the expense of great, magnified fame
And you may never be a Major Leaguer
But you will do great things.

A season of Faith's perfection

Using words not my own

And making them mine.

Making something external

One in me,

Like my Faith,

Like my friends,

Like the Snapple bottle in front of me.

A season of Faith's perfection

When I overcome my insecurity

About my singing voice,

And trust what others say around me.

More importantly,

Trust they are not delivering lip service.

A season of Faith's perfection

Seeing my family, shattered,

Still reflect light

From the floor.

Knowing that 

A New Norm

Means Progress.

A season of Faith's perfection

When believing in God is more difficult than ever.

Yet, entirely around me

Feeling the mind act as the ship Captain

On an otherwise overweight, ugly ship,

Fighting through the mental barriers

Of overeating, not exercising,

And still able to express,

Feel,

and Process beauty.

A season of Faith's perfection

When the Warm Light unites us all

And we cannot put it out.

When my friends band together 

In this fucking intense New York City

Hold one another,

Cry with one another,

Drink with one another,

Shout and fight with one another,

And grow with one another.

We are a different breed,

We Intelligentsia of Greenwich Village,

You, Intelligentsia of the Lower East Side

You, Intelligentsia of Park Slope

You, Intelligentsia of Williamsburg

We are all a breed unlike no other:

One stop Shops

Artists

Entrepreneurs

Businessmen

Businesswomen

Lawyers

Engineers

Producers

Lovers

Fighters

Soldiers

Friends.

The circles of musicians

Eventually meld into one

We all believe -

WE BELIEVE -

That time and effort

Spirals us forward

Into progress.

A season of Faith's perfection

When "clarity takes over me"

When borrowed lines from old songs of mine

Say more than they ever have.

When I look towards myself,

See the Warm Light once more

And realize

That someone is holding my hand

As if I were 5.

I still want to get an ice cream cone

Watch the seagulls

And the trains