Appreciation. Poem by Douglas Goins

Truth is.
Life is something you can grasp.
It's not a game.
It's not a strategy.
It's not some white picket fence where you can just come and go as you please.
But it is a rhythm.
A steady heart beat.
A flow of movement.
Like music.
Just as life.
There are many types of music.
You sit.
Watch.
And even listen.
A simple note.
A simple moment.
They both give you chills.
Having a party kinda night.
Just like rockbands make you imagine.
You hate it.
And you love it.
You witness the mistakes.
And you praise the accomplishments.
A beatiful orchestra.
They play as one.
Reminding you of your friends.
How they have you.
Good.
Like hearing everyone in unison.
And bad.
Like hearing just a small off key.
You hear a solo.
And know you can do it alone. The sadness of the harmony.
Takes you to the times. Where life just makes you cry. A small upbeat.
Makes the rain go away.
Gives you hope.
The symphony has a purpose. A story to tell.
Like your life.
Being told to the world.
In all honesty.
All truth.
Like picking up sticks.
And making your own music.
Making you a kid again.
You paint a picture with notes.
And you leave your mark.
As you live a life.
The song sticks with you.
Like every memory.
You hum it on days.
Depending on your mood.
Life.
It's a song.
You just can't get out your head.
Whether you love the beginning.
And you hate the middle.
You appreciate the end.
That's why you stand.
And you clap.
You scream and whistle.
And yell for an encore.
Knowing that you might not get one.
Bcus its the end.
And times almost up.
But you were there.
Through and through.
So you can smile.
And reflex.
With no regrets.
Only appreciation.