Sense something

Hearing


Rain, wind, and waves, trapped in a seashell.

And someone calling from afar.

May it be...?



Sight


There is too much to be seen.

Too much to be true.

Better close the eyes.

(Last thing I saw was bright darkness, or was it dark brightness? But it doesn't matter. There's nothing left.)



Taste


Is this smoke? It's burning. May it be ashes?

Sun, is it your fault?

The pure light of the moon was feeling like spring water.



Smell


Agrums, citron, sun.

'Tis a fearful thing, to love what sun can touch.



Touch


There's too much. Sometimes, I'm scared to forget.

Because it's delightful to remember.

Even if there's too much memories.



Sun, how did you dare and touch me?

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