The Wheel

(Verse 1)
I spend so much time trying to understand my reactions. 
Tracing the signal back to whatever moved first. 
Sometimes I'm open — wide, receptive, alive. 
Life moves through me and I move with it. 
And sometimes everything tightens. 
Like swimming upstream against love itself.
(Pre-Chorus)
And suddenly the things that help are the hardest to reach. 
Breath. 
Stillness. 
Gratitude.
I know where peace lives — and I refuse to go there.
(Chorus)
I'm on the wheel again. 
Open — close — open — close. 
Flow… friction. Flow… friction. 
A thousand lives rehearsing this. 
The wheel turns without me pushing.
(Verse 2)
Someone asked if I was lost in the darkness. 
No.
It's quieter than that. 
The shadow isn't around me — it moves inside. 
Like sandpaper beneath the skin. 
I know it will pass. It always does. 
Still I ask — how do I get out of the way? 
Or maybe… how do I help what's happening?
(Pre-Chorus 2) 
Am I looking for comfort? 
Or freedom from the cycle? 
Because every time I look up for answers my feet leave the ground. 
Waiting. Yearning. 
Calling it flow while I'm still pushing.
(Chorus)
 I'm on this wheel again. 
Open — close — open — close. 
Flow… friction. Flow… friction. 
A thousand lives rehearsing this. 
The wheel turns without me pushing.
(Bridge)
Ancient knowing. 
Oldest rhythm. 
Tension just looking for release. 
Growth without rest feels like panic. 
Evolution moving faster than the body can follow. 
So I plant my feet. 
Feel the ground. 
Let the turning turn me.
(Outro Loop)
Open.
Close.
Expand.
Contract.
Nothing is wrong here.
I'm not behind. I'm not broken.
The body is ancient.
It learned to brace to survive.
Impatience says “arrive.”
Presence says “you’re here.”
The wheel turns without me pushing.
What unwinds
returns.
And I soften into it.

Experimental, downtempo electronic, playful syncopation, exciting drop beats, surprising lifts. Release, Female vocals