I’m sure.
Even if my eardrums
refuse to take it in,
I think I’d still survive
It’s something we slowly grow used to,
and gently forget in time
I feel like I’ll manage somehow
Yes — but still…
I probably couldn’t share with you
the breath of life being born
I probably wouldn’t notice
the flowers blooming on a summer night
Songs in languages I don’t know,
gunshots in distant lands — all of them…
Compassion, pain, loneliness —
I wouldn’t be able to hear them
Who tried to name
the motion of molecules?
I’m sure.
If my skin couldn’t feel any of it,
how would I live?
It’s something we slowly grow used to,
and gently forget in time
I feel like I’ll manage somehow.
It’s only a “what if,”
but why does it scare me so much?
Even if we met here
on a lukewarm rainy afternoon,
I probably wouldn’t notice
the breeze of the passing seasons.
The chill of being alone,
the warmth of falling asleep beside someone — all of it…
The loveliness, the sorrow, the kindness —
I wouldn’t feel them.
I wouldn’t feel them.
And that’s exactly why—
That’s why
I think we shed tears
at the sight before our eyes.
I still remember, remember, remember.
I think we found meaning
in the sound flowing through us.
I still hear it, hear it, hear it.
