After countless hours and numerous songs, I arrived at my hotel in the sunny-beautiful-neon Miami. I havn't eaten but a small slice of food all day. I'm nervous. I'm scared. I'm anxious. I'm hopeful and fearful.
It was strange, walking down Ocean Dr, people of every ethnicity passing by. Me, hidden in my hoodie and behind my frames. Walking past the pain and dreams and death and questions that have been met with silence. And here I was the eve before the moment my dreams begin to take off.
"Crooked mouth quiet down, let your fist come undone. Please carry love. Be reborn when we sleep. The Devil's arms are tight but the war that we're fighting has already been won."
I walked back to my hotel in the darkness of night, through alleys and past dumpsters. I walked past a homeless man, in between us a divide so great I'm filled by sadness. It's as if He was there to remind me, "this is why you're here."
"You were meant for amazing things."
Miami is a city of contrast, like most other urban centers of our country. A broken man sits outside a store begging for a dollar. Inside, jeans are sold for hundreds. A man sits with no shoes on his feet and ripped cardboard to call his own as a ferrari drives by carrying it's passengers to a mansion over looking the sea.
These are X-rays of something broken.
....
There's so many things I want to say. But I'll leave it at this:
I wish you could see how much I love you.