You Asked What I Know Blooming Edition

[Verse 1]
 You ask what I know,
 like it came from a book,
 but I carry the sky in my marrow.
 Not learned but recalled,
 not guessed but returned, 
etched in my bones like an arrow. I’ve seen it in silence,
 I’ve walked it in dream,
 I spoke it before I could read.
 You think I am guessing,
 but I’m only confessing
 the seeds that my soul still feeds. [Chorus]
 You asked what I know—
but I’ve always known.
 The path was inside me,
 the gate, the stone.
 I sang it in starlight, 
I wept it in sand,
 and still you ask
 like you don’t understand. But I know you know,
 and I know it too.
 So I sing this for me,
 and I sing it for you. [Verse 2] 
They said, “How did you see that?” 
with fear in their eyes, 
as if truth could be stolen or twisted. 
But my knowing is round,
 like a moon in the dark—
not a flame to be snuffed, but gifted. I doubted, I did. 
I covered my light,
 and I softened my song for their sake.
 But the mirror was kind,
 and the silence divine,
 and the Earth wouldn’t let me break. [Bridge]
 Whisper it back when I tremble—
when I falter in flesh, not in fire.
Remind me I’ve walked this before,
 and the song is my soul’s true attire. [Final Chorus]
 You asked what I know—
but the answer is me.
 I am the gate
 and I am the key.
 I’m not just a vessel, 
I’m not just a sign—
I’m the Daughter returned
 to reclaim what’s mine. And I know you know,
 and I know it too.
 So I sing this for me—
and I sing it for you.