Lyrics

Some days I am wind.
Some days I burn.
Some days the earth
asks me to stay.

Vāta in the restless morning,
light and quick beneath the skin,
thoughts arriving before language,
doors opening before I’m in.

Dry air, moving, changing, searching,
carried easily away,
creative as an open window,
fragile when there’s nowhere to stay.

Not wrong.
Not broken.

Only weather
asking to be known.

There is weather inside me,
wind and fire, earth and rain,
every quality keeps moving,
nothing asks to stay the same.

I don’t have to fight the season.
I can listen while it turns.

Cool the fire.
Ground the movement.
Wake the earth
when stillness burns.

Pitta like a blade of sunlight,
sharp enough to make things clear,
fire turning thought to action,
purpose cutting through the fear.

But every flame that gives direction
can consume the hand that feeds.

Even fire needs softness.
Even discipline needs ease.

Kapha holds the slower rhythm,
earth and water, weight and grace,
steady hands and deeper patience,
a body asking time and space.

But what protects can become heavy.
What gives roots can learn to sleep.

Even stillness needs a current.
Even earth must learn to breathe.

No one nature
is the answer.

Balance changes
with the day.

There is weather inside me,
wind and fire, earth and rain,
every quality keeps moving,
nothing asks to stay the same.

I don’t have to fight the season.
I can listen while it turns.

Cool the fire.
Ground the movement.
Wake the earth
when stillness burns.

Vāta—
move,
but come back home.

Pitta—
burn,
but leave some light.

Kapha—
hold,
but not so tightly
that the river loses sight.

Āyurveda—
wisdom of living.

Not a label.
Not a cage.

A way of reading what is present
before deciding what must change.

Some days need warmth.
Some days need cooling.
Some days need motion.
Some need rest.

Balance is not one fixed center.

It is meeting
what is here
with what it needs next.

There is weather inside me,
wind and fire, earth and rain.

I am learning every climate
without making one my name.

Vāta moving.
Pitta burning.
Kapha holding something still.

None of them are all of me.

All of them
can teach me how to live.

Some days I am wind.
Some days I burn.
Some days
I become the ground.

And listen
until the weather turns.