[Verse 1]
She carries whole rivers where others hold cups,
A mind that keeps turning when the world has stopped,
She's written her grief in the marrow of trees,
And found that the branches still answer the breeze,
She's lost more than most will be asked to let go,
And still she tends embers, still watches them glow

[PreChorus]
The quiet ones carry the weight of the deep,
The words she writes waking are older than sleep

[Chorus]
Still unfinished, still becoming, Dar,
A song the night is writing by the light of every scar,
The tide comes in, the tide goes out, and still you hold your ground,
You are the melody that hasn't yet been found

[Verse 2]
She thinks in the language that rivers speak best,
Where meaning runs deeper than what gets expressed,
The world sees the stillness, it misses the storm,
The eye of a hurricane carries its own kind of warm,
She worries like someone who loves without end,
And pondering is just how her compass descends

[PreChorus]
Her ancestors walk in the hush of old pines,
Their hands on her shoulders, their breath in her lines

[Chorus]
Still unfinished, still becoming, Dar,
A song the night is writing by the light of every scar,
The tide comes in, the tide goes out, and still you hold your ground,
You are the melody that hasn't yet been found

[Verse 3]
She's playful and ancient, both child and sage,
A poet who's living between every page,
She knows when to whisper and when to be heard,
The silences hold just as much as the words,
She's circled back home through the long way around,
And the joy that she carries is sacred and sound

[PreChorus]
The broken heart open is wider inside,
There's room for the grief and the wonder beside

[Chorus]
Still unfinished, still becoming, Dar,
A song the night is writing by the light of every scar,
The tide comes in, the tide goes out, and still you hold your ground,
You are the melody that hasn't yet been found

[Bridge]
She is not what was lost, she is what remains,
The roots drinking deep from the mercy of rain,
A work in progress is still a work of grace,
And she was always enough to take up this space

[Outro]
The song is not finished, and neither is she,
Still writing, still breathing, still running to sea,
The stars that composed her are patient and sure,
And Dar is the music the world is still for