Day after day,
I came to that room,
on my back, every little thing.
A place to just forget,
a place, I'd learn to call my home: room 217.
Day after day,
I'd enter that door,
not wanting to do anything,
until I saw your face,
shining through the darkness.
You gave me hope
in the smallest ways,
in daily actions
done with a loving heart.
Day after day,
I'd sit on that desk,
Loving dark thoughts,
glaring at the world
through my black-tinted glasses.
I'd feel quite alone,
isolated by my judgments,
unwilling to step out,
onto the boards, with you.
I poured my worries into paper,
into binders, into packets,
I created my own world,
full of facts, full of practice
Day after day.
The contest came,
a Victory.
Turning us to one another,
for one moment, unity.
Still, just one, more day.
Then, day after day,
I'd stand up in front,
preaching algebra, statistics
just hoping something would stick.
But as they say,
you can lead a horse to water,
but you can't make him drink.
(Though the salt before sure helped)
Day after day
Questions answered,
reflections made,
life lived,
busy, hectic days.
And though all I taught was Math,
you taught me love,
you taught me joy.
You taught me how to loosen up,
how to look at life right.
For perspective has never been my strong suit,
from this view here near the ground.
And I can't thank you enough,
for countless little moments,
a lesson taught,
a concept learned,
a smile appears, as success draws near,
if only for a while.
Day after day,
the tension builds,
the string pulled taught,
all eves on us.
(or so it seemed,
in our own little world)
Now it's two parts down, just eight left,
And each one of us, a team,
every minute given, a gift.
So onwards we marched,
though states and through mind,
to the city,
to the lights.
And my nerves are on fire:
the embers of anticipation
lit by sparks of competition
the flames licked up my spine,
I saw my hands were shaking,
my heart beating faster,
than it has in a long, long time.
Now a wave is building,
Now looming overhead,
Now a wall of pure terror,
the fear of failure towering,
over all.
My heart is a battleground,
for was of Reds and Whites.
My flickering passions,
my blinding anxieties,
WARNING: PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR IMPACT
I try to calm the tremors,
It's just one more day.
Moments pass, every second, a century.
Now a wind at my back,
pushing me forwards
shoving me onwards,
shaking the foundation of my entire soul.
Now, I stare into the forest
of everything I've done.
Screaming, Shouting, Searching for an answer.
Peering, Peeping, Pursuing a response.
All at once, a sight emerges,
I perk up, expecting fruition.
But all I saw is a cloud,
a blackness, rolling, building, tumbling,
rippling like growing hear
flickering like dying hope,
and All at once, it hits me.
As a river flows form my head,
seeping drop by drop into my heart,
and all I want is to be alone,
to choke, struggle, and drown
in my own salt-water sea.
So I step back,
and all at once,
I am entombed.
A rock guard,
A light snuffed.
So now I say to myself,
Day after day,
Everything I do is in hope of the Resurrection.
Again, I hear,
Everything I am is in the hope of the Resurrection.
A final time, I know,
Everything, is in hope of the Resurrection.