The Dweller

The story

Before the luggage and the belt and the name I wear, there is just the water and the sky and something breathing. The coffee sits at 33.3 degrees, the tree went yellow without asking anyone, the birds call out their ground. This song is about dwelling: not staying, not leaving, being somewhere on purpose without urgency. Let the belt run empty and let the planes circle. Let the morning happen to you instead of you happening to it.

Lyrics

Before the belt, before the name
Before the luggage and the claim
There's just the water and the sky
And something breathing, you and I

33.3 degrees, the coffee sits
The tree went yellow, no permits
The birds are calling out their ground
One breath, one name, one morning sound

I'm not arriving, I'm not gone
I'm just the one who lingers on
Between the sleeping and the day
The dweller in the in-between
The one who chose to stay

The turtle laughs, the raven tucks
The fire counts on more than luck
A stone, a seeker, and the space
Where nothing moves but everything's in place

I'm not arriving, I'm not gone
I'm just the one who lingers on
Between the water and the word
The dweller and the bird

Dwell. Not stay. Not leave. Dwell.
To be somewhere on purpose
but without urgency.
To let the belt run empty.
To let the planes circle.
To let the morning happen to you
instead of happening to it.

I'm not arriving, I'm not gone
I'm just the warmth that lingers on
Between the asking and the known
The dweller who has found his home

33.3 degrees.
That's all it ever was.