Uploaded March 2026 | Updated September 2026, 2 weeks ago
Songwriting class begins the same
An envelope with my name
A check I slide across the desk
Beside a song I’ve second-guessed
We read the lines out loud and slow
She asks me what I meant to show
We sit with words that don’t feel right
And try to turn them toward the light
Sometimes I wonder as we start
If something shifts inside the art
If it begins with a transaction
Does it lose a little fraction
Of the quiet, sacred spark
That first flickered in the dark?
Can my song still be meaningful
If it’s part of something paid for?
Or is it simply what we do
To help a fragile thing come through?
They say a song should stand alone
That truth is best when grown at home
But singers train and runners fall
And no one learns without a call
Even healers seek a guide
When doubt is heavy at their side
So why should music be the one
That must be born from only one?
Still it lingers in my chest
That small uneasiness at rest
If it begins with a transaction
Does it dull the first reaction?
Or is payment just a frame
For tending carefully a flame?
Is the spark diminished there
Or simply handled with more care?
Maybe money isn’t sin
Just the door we’re entering
Some say the truest songs are free
Wolves howling endlessly
Or orcas calling through the sea
Wind chimes stirred by mystery
But wolves don’t wonder if they’re heard
And whales don’t weigh a single word
They sing because they have to sing
Not asking what the cost might bring
If it begins with a transaction
Maybe that’s just human action
We trade our hours, trade our skill
To help each other climb a hill
Maybe art is still as true
When someone walks the path with you
And maybe grace is not undone
By how the work is finally done
So I slide the envelope once more
Pull out my rough draft as before
And somewhere in the give and take
A better song begins to wake
Songwriting class begins the same
An envelope with my name
A check I slide across the desk
Beside a song I’ve second-guessed
We read the lines out loud and slow
She asks me what I meant to show
We sit with words that don’t feel right
And try to turn them toward the light
Sometimes I wonder as we start
If something shifts inside the art
If it begins with a transaction
Does it lose a little fraction
Of the quiet, sacred spark
That first flickered in the dark?
Can my song still be meaningful
If it’s part of something paid for?
Or is it simply what we do
To help a fragile thing come through?
They say a song should stand alone
That truth is best when grown at home
But singers train and runners fall
And no one learns without a call
Even healers seek a guide
When doubt is heavy at their side
So why should music be the one
That must be born from only one?
Still it lingers in my chest
That small uneasiness at rest
If it begins with a transaction
Does it dull the first reaction?
Or is payment just a frame
For tending carefully a flame?
Is the spark diminished there
Or simply handled with more care?
Maybe money isn’t sin
Just the door we’re entering
Some say the truest songs are free
Wolves howling endlessly
Or orcas calling through the sea
Wind chimes stirred by mystery
But wolves don’t wonder if they’re heard
And whales don’t weigh a single word
They sing because they have to sing
Not asking what the cost might bring
If it begins with a transaction
Maybe that’s just human action
We trade our hours, trade our skill
To help each other climb a hill
Maybe art is still as true
When someone walks the path with you
And maybe grace is not undone
By how the work is finally done
So I slide the envelope once more
Pull out my rough draft as before
And somewhere in the give and take
A better song begins to wake
