Mosaic in the Sun

Edwin Raphael

This is where the garden cracks open — where the sunlight pours through fragmented branches, where you're finally forced to look at all the pieces you've been holding together for too long. Mosaic in the Sun lives here, in a restless space of internal scatter — a place you’ve passed through in every city, every season of self. The song is about the ache of dislocation. Growing up across countries and cultures, with your sense of home packed into shifting landscapes — you learned that no place truly held you. You brought the garden with you instead. In this track, we feel the pull between surrender and survival, between letting yourself fall apart or choosing, once again, to "just roll." The chorus echoes that familiar voice — the one inside you that wonders if resting, loving, letting go is safe. Or if it's another risk disguised as relief: “If I could just fall / oh it could feel good for a while…” But like a mosaic scattered in sunlight, even brokenness can refract something beautiful. There's a humility here — in asking, “Where was I when I was all you needed?” — that feels like looking into your younger self’s eyes, or speaking to someone you once loved, and realizing you’ve both been trying to make peace with your own disappearing acts. This track is the garden’s threshold — a moment between. Between movement and stillness. Between who you were and who you’re becoming. Between light and all the little fragments learning how to hold it.