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—Where does that melody come from— A faint grass whistle echoes An illusion, or a memory? Perhaps our scars led us here Invisible truths lie as unspoken cries Beneath the waves, in the blue of our inner wounds. I'm grateful I met you The leaves whisper, swaying in the wind I live as a leaf, so keep playing that melody beautifully For it will make wounds ache anew Reminding someone of what’s lost and precious. Our stories will never converge Even if we can't return Even if the sorrow remains unhealed We can find each other again. Endlessly, time after time. In longing for my future self’s desires We taste a sliver of true freedom. A grass whistle’s song in the fresh early summer breeze, —Where does that melody come from?—