Eighteen score years ago, a cradled crying baby - who was given an enlightened path - was born
       This indelible moment to few would outstand future pursuits that many would adore

Ten score years ago, the enthusiastic child produced melodies
        This underlying moment tattooed an undeniable talent that wallowed away hearts onto the floor.

Four score years ago, the blossoming teen discovered a courage
        This exposing moment fueled a dream that she would make her reality

We have come to this hallowed spot in America where reality is a path and dreams are superstitious. 

Dreams become fictitious

A realm of deceit. Promising failure. Weeping in defeat.

Only this if you permit

Only this if you sit.

Two score years ago, the passion is inevitable.

One score year ago, "we finally meet", says the devil.

I found a dream, that higher education will not be a circus in solitary confinement, but knowledge in an asylum. 

I found a dream that passion will overlook an older generation of success and expansion of raw talent will prevail.

I found a dream that the concrete wall needed to be chiseled away will not kill the humble soul, but inspire the body to endure.

I do not have a “dream job”.

Musical and entrepreneurial aesthetics need no score. They yearn for love, drive, knowledge...

Today, my dream is my reality.

And one day, yours will be, too.

And when this happens, and when we allow passion to burn, when we let it burn every fiber and every doubter, we will be able to chime:

Dreams will last!

Dreams will last!

I do not have a “dream job”.

Today, my dream is my reality.