The Journey
When the glare of the white light is centered to perfectionI forget the angle, the strain, and the reflection
It is no longer blinding
No longer binding
I'm swinging with happiness
Just on the train rhythming
Its all about timing
He helped me arc my shot
And rebound my drop
Told me "don't stop"
I sail into the storm
Nose first into the current
Not looking back, not faltering
Solid and foundated
A little late but I made it
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