Jordan

While watching the sun rise on a snowed winter’s morn the reflection of the smooth light bitten by the crisp snow is enough to freeze a tear to my eyes.

However, while I stand in my position looking at the serene scene, I want something more than cold feet and frozen tears. I want to thaw. I want to melt as the water flows from my body in the best manner that it can. Only certain things can produce such an exclamation of beauty and appreciation of deeper meaning is something that I want to run for eternity.

My name, Jordan, does this for me.

Without the narcissism that it may imply, my name means to flow. Symphonic sonatas of the wind’s song have nothing on the eloquence and rhythm that comes from my name.

With the moon as my instructor the dance that my lips waltz to in order to produce such a heavenly sound is that of the graceful love ritual of the Swans on the Lake, only better.

My name is moving. An everlasting rush of sixteen years of raw emotion comes from the two simple syllables that make up me.

Stories of passion and pain, happiness and heartache, ear splitting stimulation and soundless sorrows are just the “Jor-” of my name.

“-dan” is the resilience of my resolves, the strength that comes from my sufferings, the power from my pities.

Together this name shows that I am a river. Though I may be damned to a halt, I will continue to rush and push and I will not stop moving.

I know that my tears will never stop feeding the flow of Jordan.

I keep moving and fighting until I reach the sea that will be the freedom of me. Trapped in my path I will tear all those who even dare to set their jagged rock in my waters.

My stream, however, is calm enough to carry me and cleanse my soul as I drift into the ocean that will be my salvation. Flowing until “Jordan” is whispered amongst the tides.