Night At The Library (Lost Souls #1)

Chapter 29: Will

Despite my initial hesitation, I agreed, drawn to the prospect of sharing my newfound passion with the world. The thought of stepping onto the stage filled me with a mix of excitement and trepidation, but deep down, I knew it was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

As we entered the dimly lit café, the air was thick with anticipation, the low hum of conversation punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses. I could feel the nervous energy crackling in the air, my heart pounding in time with the pulsing rhythm of the room. But as I made my way to the stage, guided by John's reassuring presence, a sense of calm washed over me. This was where I belonged. With each step, I could feel the weight of my crutches bearing down on me, a physical reminder of the journey I had traveled to get here. As I stood behind the microphone, the weight of my crutches grounding me to the stage, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. The room was alive with anticipation, the air thick with nervous energy, but amidst the chaos, I felt a sense of calm settle over me.

With John's reassuring presence beside me, I gathered my courage and addressed the crowd. "Hi," I began, my voice trembling slightly. "I've never done this before. I never shared my poetry with anybody." A nervous giggle escaped my lips, betraying my anxiety.

But as I spoke, I felt a sense of liberation wash over me, a freedom in the act of sharing my truth with strangers. "For the past few weeks, I lost what I was good at. I was told I could never play basketball anymore," I continued, the weight of those words heavy on my heart. "While I felt miserable at home thinking of what my future could hold, I decided to be miserable on paper at least. So I decided to do something with it."

In the stillness of the night, when shadows dance with moonlight's gleam,

I find solace in the silence, in the whispers of a dream.

For in the depths of darkness, where sorrows often dwell,

There blooms a fragile beauty, a tale I long to tell.

With pen in hand and heart laid bare, I paint upon the page,

The echoes of my longing, the echoes of an age.

Each word a brushstroke, each line a gentle sigh,

As I weave a tapestry of dreams beneath the starlit sky.

Through valleys deep and mountains high, my verses take flight,

Carried on the wings of hope, through the darkest night.

For in the rhythm of the rhyme, in the cadence of the verse,

I find a fleeting moment of solace, a moment to immerse.

So let the ink flow freely, let the words unfurl,

As I lose myself in poetry, in this enchanted world.

For in the beauty of the written word, in the magic of the rhyme,

I find a sanctuary for my soul, a haven for all time.

As I began to recite my poetry, the words flowed effortlessly from my lips, a raw and honest expression of my innermost thoughts and feelings. Each verse was a window into my soul, a glimpse into the depths of my being laid bare for all to see. And as I looked out into the crowd, I could see the impact of my words reflected in their eyes—their silent nods of understanding, their appreciative applause.

Unbeknownst to me, an agent sat among the crowd, captivated by the raw emotion and authenticity of my performance. After the show, she approached me with an offer—one that would change the course of my life forever.

"You write poetry in a very unique way. I want to see more of that poetry you wrote miserably on paper. I believe you have potential. I see you recite poems and maybe be a world known poet."

And so, with her guidance and support, I embarked on a new chapter in my life, trading in my basketball jersey for a pen and notebook. In the months that followed, I immersed myself in the world of poetry, honing my craft and refining my voice as an artist.