Morning breaks like a promise on the edge of town, Dust of old maps falling softly to the ground. We packed our doubts in cardboard, left the windows wide, There’s a road that hums the chorus of the tide. You held my hand like a lighthouse in the rain, Said the past is a lesson, not a chain. We traded worn-out stories for a brand-new sky, And learned how to say the word goodbye.Every heartbeat’s a compass, every breath a sign, We’re learning how to stumble, learning how to climb. When the night forgets our names, we’ll still remain, Two sparks in the dark that call each other flame. Here’s to new beginnings, to the next springs we’ll find, To the songs we’ll be singing when the seasons change their mind. Raise a glass to the mornings that we never thought we’d see, We’ll plant our hopes like seeds and watch the next springs set us free.  City lights like constellations in our palms, We write our future in the margins of old psalms. There’s a coffee shop that knows our laughter by the hour, And a window seat where sunlight learns to flower. We’re not the same as yesterday, we’re softer, we’re more brave, Learning how to build from what we used to save. Every small surrender is a doorway left ajar, Leading us to places where the wild things are. Every heartbeat’s a compass, every breath a sign, We’re learning how to stumble, learning how to climb. When the night forgets our names, we’ll still remain, Two sparks in the dark that call each other flame. Here’s to new beginnings, to the next springs we’ll find, To the songs we’ll be singing when the seasons change their mind. Raise a glass to the mornings that we never thought we’d see, We’ll plant our hopes like seeds and watch the next springs set us free.  choir  If the map is torn and the compass spins away, We’ll follow the small lights that refuse to fade. There’s a rhythm in the rubble, a pulse beneath the dust, A promise in the quiet that says we still can trust. So take the broken pieces, let them catch the sun, We’ll build a constellation out of everyone. Here’s to new beginnings, to the next springs we’ll find, To the louder, truer music that we carry in our minds. Raise a glass to the mornings that we never thought we’d see, We’ll plant our hopes like seeds and watch the next springs set us free. We’ll keep a little light for when the long nights come, A pocket full of dawns, a pocket full of sun. Next springs will come, and when they do we’ll sing, Of how we learned to rise, of how we learned to begin.