Verse 1
I’ve been walking with a map in my hand,
Lines and labels, trying to understand,
Every hill reduced to a word,
Every river neatly curved.
But the ground kept pressing through my shoes,
Telling stories the map never knew.
Chorus
Heart, not head,
Feeling, not thought,
Terrain, not the map I bought.
What’s happening now can’t be caught,
It’s lived, not taught.
Verse 2
I thought I knew what “here” meant,
Till I felt my breath where the silence went,
A hum in the chest, a pull, a sway,
Something older than what I say.
Every word I tried fell flat,
Like a photograph of a fire that’s warm.
Chorus
Heart, not head,
Sensation, not name,
The river’s wet, not the word “rain.”
This aliveness has no frame,
No one to claim.
Bridge
Thought arrives late,
With tidy shoes and a measured gate,
But life spills wild and uncontained,
Through pulse and ache and subtle grain.
Final Chorus
Heart, not head,
Touch, not view,
The sky is closer than it’s ever been “true.”
I don’t think my way into you—
I feel you through.
Outro
Map down.
Feet on ground.
This is it —
Unfound, unbound.
