Rust & Rhythm

I was buried in the winter of my doubt,

then I felt the spring come breaking through.

Every scar became a story worth telling,

every ending was a page turned new.

I was chasing echoes of a name I used to know,

some younger version of myself I let the seasons take.

Now I’m gathering the pieces up wherever they may go,

cause even shattered glass can find a way to shine and shape.

This is my renaissance,

waking up again. Finding all the meaning underneath the skin.

Life was never over,

it was only intermission.

This is my renaissance,

and I’m just beginning. I

was drawing in the dark,

tracing shapes I couldn’t name.

Then I found a kind of color that could set my hands

aflame. Every brushstroke was a heartbeat,

every heartbeat was a chance.

Now I’m painting out my future like a slow and steady dance.

This is my renaissance,

waking up again. Finding all the meaning underneath the skin.

Life was never over,

it was only intermission.

This is my renaissance,

and I’m just beginning.

Maybe we’re all unfinished sculptures,

waiting for the light.

Maybe every fall we take is just the start of learning flight.

There is meaning in the marble,

there is music in the pain.

And the masters knew this always,

that the breaking is the gain.

I used to measure worth in silence,

in the things I never said.

Now I’m learning every whisper matters more than what’s ahead.

Every mirror used to lie to me,

showed me shadows, showed me less.

Now I see the whole cathedral in this messy,

honest mess. They said stay quiet,

said stay small, said fit inside the frame.

But Renaissance men broke every rule and still they signed their name.

So I’m breaking out the borders that they drew around my sky,

painting something bigger than the reasons they said why.

And if the old world’s crumbling,

let it crumble to the ground.

Cause I can hear a new one,

rising up without a sound.

Every language has a word for waking.

Every silence has a song underneath.

Every heart that’s ever done the breaking

finds a rhythm in the way it grieves.

This is my renaissance,

waking up again. Finding all the meaning underneath the skin.

Life was never over,

it was only intermission.

This is my renaissance,

and I’m just beginning.

This is my renaissance,

colors bleeding through. Every brushstroke calling,

saying I was always you.

Turn the words to life now,

let the meaning show.

Every ending’s just a door,

and I’m walking through it slow.