New Leafing 1B

I once knew who I was,
Or maybe who I wasn’t,
A barefoot soul with nowhere else to be.
I laughed without a reason,
Carried sunlight through the seasons,
And somehow that was all I needed me to be.

Then the years grew heavy,
Like vines around an oak tree,
And every compromise became another sleeve.
I disappeared so slowly,
No one noticed but the old me,
Now my reflection shows a stranger back at me.

Pre-Chorus

How do I return
To the child I left behind?
Is he waiting in the shadows,
Or has he faded out with time?

Chorus

I’m turning over new leafing,
Falling from the branches of who I’ve been.
The mirror’s cracked and bleeding,
But somewhere in the pieces there’s a face again.

Am I the wind that wanders?
Am I the road beneath my feet?
Or am I just a ghost of all the things
I needed others to believe?

I’m turning over new leafing,
Learning how to be alone with me.

Verse 2

Am I an adventurer,
A hiker or a dreamer?
A swimmer chasing sunsets on the sea?
A poet in a coffee shop,
A hermit on a mountaintop,
Or something I’ve not yet allowed myself to be?

Do I need an answer
Before I love another?
Must I draw a map before I choose a path?
Or maybe I’m not missing,
Maybe I’ve just been forgetting
That becoming isn’t something from the past.

Pre-Chorus

Maybe every ending
Is a door without a key,
And maybe all this silence
Is introducing me to me.

Chorus

I’m turning over new leafing,
Falling from the branches of who I’ve been.
The mirror’s cracked and bleeding,
But somewhere in the pieces there’s a face again.

Am I the sun at morning?
Am I the shadow dragged along?
Or am I finally learning
I can be both weak and strong?

I’m turning over new leafing,
Learning how to be alone with me.

Bridge

To be or not to be,
The old ghost whispers constantly.
But what if that’s the wrong question?

What if I don’t need to know
Who I am before I grow?
What if the search itself’s the resurrection?

Maybe the hollow isn’t empty,
Maybe it’s making room.
Maybe the ache inside my chest
Is just a heart preparing to bloom.

Final Chorus

I’m turning over new leafing,
The winter finally loosens from my bones.
No longer just surviving,
No longer needing someone else to call me home.