Summary: A song about different creative parts finding a shared rhythm while keeping their own character, with room for listening, revision and unexpected connections.

The red ran down to greet a patch of blue,
And made a shade that neither of them knew.
We watched the brush go wandering off the line,
Then found a place for every crooked sign.

A drum came softly knocking at the gate,
The strings replied, the voices chose to wait.
One empty beat was all they had to share,
It made a little breathing room of air.

Come as you are, bring what you know,
The quiet roots will tell us where to grow.
Leave room for me, I'll leave you room,
A hundred colors, one small bloom.

We hung the canvas where the shadows fell,
Not every mark had everything to tell.
Some held the road, some only held the rain,
Together they could make a world feel plain.

The loudest bell stepped back to hear a bird,
A simple note was suddenly a word.
We did not need to sound the same to sing,
The open space could hold a different wing.

Come as you are, bring what you know,
The quiet roots will tell us where to grow.
Leave room for me, I'll leave you room,
A hundred colors, one small bloom.

And when the room grew still enough to sleep,
We knew which little marks we meant to keep.
The picture stayed unfinished by the door,
With room for what tomorrow might be for.