Same words, different worlds
The memory of those who are gone,
Press play, then tap another version while it plays: the song carries on from the same word, in another world.
A private thought given an orchestra. Each absence is treated as something sacred, fragile, and slowly fading — not torn away, only released.
- Mood
- intimate, cinematic, warm, restrained
- Best for
- late night listening, quiet reflection, focus, autumn afternoons
- For fans of
- Sufjan Stevens, Ólafur Arnalds, Beirut
A thousand faces drift through my memory,
scattered through the stream of time.
Some have shared deep emotions with me,
yet they faded, like leaves upon the river.
The memory of those who are gone,
sometimes soothes, sometimes wounds.
I will never know
when a face fades into time,
becoming just a memory.
This thought
keeps me present.
It makes me cherish every moment,
with the leaves I hold so dear,
suspended in the wind,
above a waiting river.
The memory of those who are gone,
sometimes soothes, sometimes wounds.
While I remember the fallen leaves,
the future will bring new ones.
They'll be different,
but just as true.
And I wonder: will I be a leaf,
in the thoughts of those I've brushed against?
Will I remain,
or fade away, never to be sought?
The memory of those who are gone,
sometimes soothes, sometimes wounds.