Poem For Improv (1)
Glorious Yesss, Improv!
Where grown children of the world ascend—
A stage, a platform, whatever holds.
No lines etched, no maps drawn,
Just the electric hum of now.
Up they rise, hearts alive,
Voices weaving stories from the air.
Each moment a daring leap,
Each word a spark catching fire,
Lighting up a room hungry for truth—
Messy, raw, unpolished, yet divine.
We, the witnesses, perched on edges,
Lean in, captivated.
Their tales—curious and unpredictable—
Unlock a corner of us
We didn’t know lay waiting.
This is the glory,
The sacred art of trusting the unknown,
Of letting go and stepping forward,
Not for perfection,
But for connection.
