The cold penetrated through my flesh—I could feel it strike my bones. I faced my booklet with immense tension, having gone through the question over and over again. How could I have forgotten the steps to the answer? I was shocked; nothing came to mind. I felt like a failure—everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were writing.

I glanced through the questions again, searching for a spark of inspiration. "Look deep," my inner voice whispered, "and you will find the answer." I paid close attention to every sentence in the question, reading it repeatedly and slowly. With faith, I attempted what I thought was correct. God willing, I tried my best.

I wrote my heart out and came out of the hall feeling completely drained. I asked my friends for their answers, but their responses only left me more bewildered. My answer was wrong. I looked down and went home with a heavy heart, the daunting prospect of retaking the exam looming over me.

As I trudged home, tangled in regret, a sound caught my attention—jazz, bold and alive, floated from a street corner. The trumpet spoke to my soul. I couldn't help but move to the rhythm; my heart began to glow again. Music is healing—I never even knew I was wounded. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I smiled at a child on her mother's back. The baby looked at me with wide, curious eyes.

I hummed along to the song, now playing softly from my phone. Time moved slowly, and the weight of uncertainty lingered. Then, a few weeks later, I walked past the results board. My heart tensed. Adrenaline surged as I stepped forward to check if I had failed—only to discover that I had passed. The joy knew no bounds.

My body swayed to the rhythm of my heart. The drum’s beat spoke truth; its resonant tone mirrored the passion with which it was played. I had played my own drum with that same fervor. I once thought it was the approval of the crowd that made the drummer play well—but now I know it’s not. It’s belief. I believe in my strength. Tune your ears to my song—the lyrics may be exactly what you need.

Are you ready to dance to your own rhythm, as I have to mine, no matter the outcome? Then tag along. You’re destined for greatness. Play your drums with the same passion that moves your feet to dance. We all crave the joy of a beautiful song. Let my fire spark yours—because together, our rhythm can become a masterpiece. You are all I need for this beatific experience.