[Verse 1]
She came into the world with two minds running side by side,
A curiosity that couldn't choose, so she learned to straddle the divide,
One eye on the distant road, one hand on the open book,
Carrying a weight of early seriousness nobody else could look,
She built her discipline like scaffolding around a tender core,
A girl who felt decades older than the face she wore.

[PreChorus]
But everything she studied, every question she pursued,
Was the seed of something larger slowly pressing through.

[Chorus]
Trista, you were made of more than any one direction,
A mind that turns the complicated into clear reflection,
Every road you walked alone became the road you'll lead,
Trista, you are every answer planted in the seed.

[Verse 2]
She keeps her deepest tides tucked beneath a careful face,
An inner world so layered that it fills up every space,
She catalogs her feelings like a manuscript she'll sort,
The unsaid grief, the quiet joy, the love she never exported,
But when she loves, she builds a house around the ones she picks,
Protective and devoted past the point where others quit.

[PreChorus]
The door she guards so carefully is also her own door,
She's harvesting the courage now to want and ask for more.

[Chorus]
Trista, every boundary held was you staying true,
The scrutiny you turned on life was always turning you,
Every transformation that rewrote you from within,
Trista, is the harvest that was always set to begin.

[Verse 3]
She draws a map of meaning out of everything she finds,
Then second-guesses every line and draws the whole thing twice,
The restlessness she carries is a compass, not a flaw,
It drove her to the deeper truth below the surface law,
She questions every system that would keep her small and still,
The unconventional was never reckless — it was will.

[PreChorus]
The equinox tips even, and the longer dark gives way,
What she's tended underground is finally ready for the day.

[Chorus]
Trista, every question mark became a key you turned,
Every year you spent in preparation, quietly earned,
The fullness of the season is the sum of what you've sown,
Trista, step into the field — everything has grown.

[Bridge]
She sorted through the wreckage where old versions of her fell,
She held the contradictions and she held herself as well,
The inner critic sharpened her but never got the final say,
The builder and the seeker in her never walked away.

[Outro]
Trista, this is the threshold, this is the open gate,
Everything you grew through brought you here — right on time, not late.