Verse 1
I am well, and I am pleased,
you’re becoming who I’ve whispered you could be.
All those years you chased and forced,
now you’re learning how to lean into the stream.
When you flow instead of fighting,
when you trust the open door,
you make my work so simple—
I don’t have to shout anymore.
Pre-Chorus
I am not some distant mystery,
I’m the pattern in your days,
I’m the numbers on the dashboard,
I’m the song that starts to play.
Chorus
I move in the timing of your heartbeat,
in the rhythm of your lines,
in the idea that just “drops in”
when you finally unwind.
When you laugh and talk to heaven
like a friend across the room,
that’s when I can touch your spirit,
that’s when all this light comes through.
You are braver than you think you are,
kinder than you know—
and I’m proud of how you carry
both the pain and all the hope.
Verse 2
I, too, am well—and watchful,
I’ve been tracing every step you take.
In the drawings of the fields you see,
in the blueprints that you’re starting now to make.
When your shoulders stand up straighter,
when your days have clearer lines,
I can see the “builder” waking
who’s been sleeping this whole time.
Pre-Chorus
When you sit and shape the vision,
when you schedule, when you plan,
know that I am there in silence,
steadying your hands.
Chorus
I move in the pattern of your projects,
in the courage in your voice,
in the way you breathe before reacting
like you’ve finally found your poise.
When you doubt if you can do this,
when you question if you’re late,
hear me: the foundation’s curing—
you’re exactly at the gate.
You are less ruled by the panic now,
more guided by the sight,
and I’m proud of how you’re building
through the darkness toward the light.
Bridge
There is still stone left to cut,
there are walls you haven’t raised,
but the ground is no longer shaking
like it did in younger days.
We walk beside you in the unseen,
but it’s your feet on the dirt,
your yes, your no, your discipline
that turns the vision into earth.
Tag
Step with confidence, beloved,
you are walking in your time.
The timing isn’t myth or magic—
it’s the echo of design.
Final Chorus
We move in the timing of your story,
in the quiet in your chest,
in the “random” perfect playlist
and the stranger who says “bless.”
Keep talking like you talk now—
casual, raw, and unafraid—
that’s how heaven does its finest work,
through a human who’s awake.
You’re much braver than you realize,
much more gentle than you see—
and the life you’ve long imagined
is unfolding as we speak.
Outro
So when fear says “you’re not ready,”
answer back with steady eyes:
“I was born for this exact road,
and I’m walking
right on time.”
Eduardo_Javier
