Lyrics

People think

courage

arrives

fully written.

Like sheet music

waiting

on a stand.

Perfect notes.

Perfect timing.

Perfect certainty.

Mine

never did.

Mine

always sounded

like the first step

onto a stage

without knowing

who was listening.

A trembling hand.

A shaking voice.

A heart

hoping

it could learn

the melody

while

it was already

playing.

Maybe

that’s why

fear

always asks

for rehearsals.

Life

never does.

Courage

is improvisation.

The beautiful risk

of trusting

that your soul

already knows

more

than your mind

can explain.

Every wrong note

is only

another invitation

to keep

playing.

The moments

that changed me

never

asked permission.

They arrived

like unexpected chords

inside

ordinary afternoons.

A conversation.

A goodbye.

A stranger.

A sunrise.

None of them

checked

whether

I was ready.

Looking back,

I can’t remember

the days

I controlled

perfectly.

I remember

the ones

where I laughed,

changed direction,

said yes,

said sorry,

said,

“I have absolutely

no idea

what I’m doing…”

and somehow

found

myself

there.

Every improviser

knows

something

schools

rarely teach.

You don’t

erase

a mistake.

You answer it.

One note

becomes another.

One choice

becomes another.

Until suddenly

what looked

like an accident

sounds

like destiny.

Maybe

life

works

the same way.

Courage

isn’t

the absence

of fear.

It’s hearing

your heartbeat

change tempo…

and dancing

anyway.

Not because

you know

the ending.

Because

you’ve learned

to trust

the music

between

the notes.

If tomorrow

asks me

to improvise

again…

I hope

I still smile

before

I answer.

Because

the best songs

I have ever lived

were never

the ones

I planned.

They were

the ones

that quietly

asked…

“Ready?”

…and began

before

I could

say yes.