Ito

Why do we meet like this?
We don’t know a thing.
When do we meet again?
We never really know.

Where have you been, how have you lived?
Under this distant sky, two stories unfold.

The vertical thread is you, the horizontal thread is me.
What we weave might someday warm someone.

Why do we keep on living?
After the days of confusion, the rustling leaves.
Chasing dreams, running fast,
After the days of falling, the rustling leaves.

What can this thread become?
With no heart to hold, trembling in the wind.

The vertical thread is you, the horizontal thread is me.
What we weave might someday shield someone’s pain.

The vertical thread is you, the horizontal thread is me.
Meeting the threads we’re meant to find,
Is what people call happiness.