It settles into a warm little walk—guitar and a steady pulse that still has a bit of lean in it.

Verse comes in close to the body, like ordinary morning already underway.

She takes the dreams and makes them run, and the guitar-and-voice frame stays small enough that you believe the pace.

There's space around this one—been a while since she held someone—and the ache just sits there.

Doesn't need a man, and still missing him tonight. Both things true at once.

Heart kept whole, pointed homeward—less romance than a shelter she's trying to keep open.

"Until I'm home" stretches out, and the pulse keeps walking under it, so home stays ahead rather than arrived.

Days still dragging, but the groove keeps walking, making the tiredness feel carried instead of stuck.

Dreams again, same motion, now carrying more of the prayer with them.

Homeward becomes the real pulse now—direction held, not a door walked through.

The words get simpler—let it, let your will be done—story thinning into prayer while the groove keeps breathing.

Everything eases back and leaves the longing open. The prayer still feels like it's breathing after the pulse is gone.