Enough was never a small word, it turns out,
enough just meant we finally stopped the search.
I spent a decade chasing more of everything,
and this whole time we were already enough.
Enough, and still here —
that's the whole of the story, start to end.
I used to think that rest meant giving something up,
like stillness was a door closing somewhere.
Nobody told me rest could be this active —
choosing, every day, to just stay here.
I followed the whole of you (the whole of you)
all the way to this exact chair.
Enough was never a small word, it turns out,
enough just meant we finally stopped the search.
I spent a decade chasing more of everything,
and this whole time we were already enough.
Enough, and still here —
that's the whole of the story, start to end.
I found the whole of you before I knew its name,
I gave up better kingdoms for this floor.
I made the miles mean nothing, weathered every storm,
said nothing and it said the whole thing more.
I called it love at the center of the record,
and every room since then became a door.
So let it be small, let it be quiet,
let it be a kitchen and a chair.
Everything I ever thought I needed
was already sitting somewhere here.
Enough was never a small word, it turns out,
enough just meant we finally stopped the search.
I spent a decade chasing more of everything,
and this whole time — the whole of you — was enough.
Enough, and still here,
enough, and still here.
(the whole of you. still here.)