Que sera, sera — Whatever will be, will be [OPENING HUM / CHANT] (quiet inhale; soft vowels in the dark: O… A… I…) like dawn under eyelids [CHORUS — surrender with spine] Que sera, sera—what will be will be I’ll do the next kind thing. Hands on the work I have, heart open to what sings. Que sera, sera— I plant, the seasons bring. I trust the slow, small good, and let the harvest ring. [VERSE 1 — rap bars] I used to wrestle every hour, to bend tomorrow by sheer power, to script the sky, to force the rain, to bargain with my fear and pain. Plans like glass would crack and fall; I’d cut my palms to hold it all. But life kept teaching, soft and sure: you can’t make oceans still and pure. You steer your boat, you watch the tide, you learn which winds to ride, which hide. Not lazy faith, not giving up— just humble hands around the cup. [CHORUS] Que sera, sera—what will be will be I’ll do the next kind thing. Hands on the work I have, heart open to what sings. [VERSE 2 — rap bars] I’ve buried loves, I’ve buried dreams; I’ve watched the seams unsew, it seems. Some doors stayed shut no matter prayer; some roads turned wild mid–journey’s dare. I named the loss and let it weep; I didn’t toss it in the deep. And in that honest, salty lake, a truer strength began to wake. The strength to bow, to breathe, to stay, to bless the dawn that had no ray. To say, “I’ll serve with what I’ve got— and trust the rest to more-than-ought.” [CHORUS] Que sera, sera—what will be will be I plant, the seasons bring. I trust the slow, small good, and let the harvest ring. [VERSE 3 — rap bars] Four in, six out—reset the frame. Write one real line—call truth by name. Drink water, stand in morning sun, send one kind text, forgive someone. Move body soft, unclench the jaw, learn one new skill, respect a law. Turn off the noise by ten at night, thank three small things, release the fight. These aren’t grand gestures, gold and loud— they’re quiet bricks that build you proud. Stack them daily; let them be— a ritual of clarity. [BRIDGE — spoken over hush] O… I… AOM… Not mine to own the tides, mine to hold the oars. Not mine to shape all ends, mine to shape my chores. Whatever will be… will be. I will be faithful—free. [CHORUS — gentle, widening] Que sera, sera—what will be will be I’ll do the next kind thing. Hands on the work I have, heart open to what sings. Que sera, sera—what will be will be I plant, the seasons bring. I trust the slow, small good, and let the harvest ring. [OUTRO MANTRA] (whispered) Let be… do good… breathe slow… choose love… (repeat and fade)
