For Those Whose Voices Were Swallowed
This is not a commentary for the happy or the healed. If your life is going fine, you can stop reading now.
This is for the ones who screamed into the dark and heard nothing come back.
For the ones who were betrayed by the person they trusted most.
For the disciples whose gurus turned predators.
For the lovers whose devotion was met with humiliation.
For the children who were never believed.
For the seekers who prayed until their throat burned and still felt abandoned.
You didn’t just suffer — you were silenced. You didn’t just fall — you were buried.
And now they think you’re gone. They think you broke. They think you became like everyone else: bitter, numb, obedient, forgettable.
But hear me clearly:
If your voice was swallowed, it is not gone.
It is fermenting. It is pressurising. It is gathering charge beneath your ribs like gunpowder.
You are not dead — you are loading.
This song — Sorairo Days — is not a cheerful anime opening. It is a detonator.
And if you read it with mystical ears, you’ll hear what I hear:
Not a girl singing.
A buried soul pounding on its own coffin lid.
And I am here to tell you:
Do. Not. Stop. Pounding.
They wanted you quiet.
They wanted you obedient.
They wanted you erased.
Let them regret it.
Verse 1
Romanji:
Kimi wa kikoeru? Boku no kono koe ga
Yami ni munashiku suikomareta
Moshimo sekai ga imi wo motsu no nara
Konna kimochi wo muda de wa nai
Translation:
Can you hear it — this voice of mine?
It slipped into the darkness, swallowed without a trace.
But if this world has any meaning at all,
Then these feelings I carry were not in vain.
“Can you hear it — this voice of mine?”
This is not a polite question. This is the knock of someone buried alive.
This is the soul asking the one it once trusted — Are you even listening?
But beneath the plea is already rebellion. Because the silenced voice is still speaking.
A truly defeated person stays quiet. If you can still ask “Can you hear me?” — you are not defeated.
“It slipped into the darkness, swallowed without a trace.”
Most people think this is the moment of failure. I don’t. I hear ignition.
In ordinary life, you shout and someone hears. That’s human.
But when you shout and no one hears — and you STILL keep shouting?
That’s not human anymore. That’s Shakti waking.
The darkness didn’t silence you. It pressurised you.
“But if this world has any meaning at all,”
This is where the psyche could collapse — maybe nothing matters, maybe my pain is random.
But instead of falling into nihilism, the soul claws for meaning not in theology, not in scripture — but in its own heartbeat.
This is the difference between true spirituality and gaslighting religion:
No doctrine is being forced here. This is existential defiance.
“Then these feelings I carry were not in vain.”
This is not optimism — this is refusal.
Refusal to accept that everything you suffered was pointless.
Even if you don’t yet know what it was for — you swear it must be for something.
In Kaula this is the moment poison stops being poison. Not because the taste changes — but because you decide it will become nectar.
Shakti does not heal by soothing. She heals by weaponising.
Pre-Chorus
Romanji:
Akogare ni oshitsubusarete akirametetan da
Hateshinai sora no iro mo shiranai de
Translation:
Crushed beneath my own longing, I had already given up,
Without even knowing the color of the endless sky.
“Crushed beneath my own longing, I had already given up,”
Longing is dangerous. It can uplift or suffocate.
This line is not about weakness — it’s about burning in a desire so strong it becomes unbearable.
This is viraha — sacred separation, the agony of the soul that wants the Real so fiercely that it chokes on it.
Most spiritual traditions try to tame longing. Kaula does not. Kaula says:
Let longing crush you. Let desire break your spine. The one who survives that pressure becomes a lightning rod of grace.
Here, the singer says “I had already given up” — but notice:
They’re speaking in past tense.
Which means: I was broken — but I am not broken now.
“Without even knowing the color of the endless sky.”
This is the real tragedy — not that you failed, but that you surrendered before you ever even saw your true expanse.
Your oppressor, abuser, false guru, or inner saboteur convinced you that Heaven was unreachable — before you ever learned how high you could truly rise.
This line is a vow disguised as regret.
It means: Never again will I kneel before seeing the sky for myself.
Because once you taste that sky — even once — you can never be owned by anyone again.
Chorus
Romanji:
Hashiridashita omoi ga ima demo
Kono mune wo tashikani tatauteru kara
Kyou no boku ga sono saki ni tsuzuku
Bokura nari no asu wo kizuiteiku
Kotae wa sou itsumo koko ni aru
Translation:
Because these racing emotions still, even now,
Pound strongly within my chest,
The “me” of today will continue into what lies ahead,
And we will carve out a tomorrow that belongs to us.
Yes — the answer has always been right here.
“Because these racing emotions still, even now,
pound strongly within my chest,”
This is the moment the corpse twitches. The voice thought dead is still pounding.
If your chest is still beating, you are not finished. That pounding is not weakness. It is war drums.
Kaula says: when the heart refuses to stop, that is Shakti’s proof you still belong to Her.
“The ‘me’ of today will continue into what lies ahead,”
Trauma wants you stuck in yesterday. False gurus want you stuck in their shadow. Abusers want you stuck in their lie.
This line tears that contract.
The one who was broken yesterday does not dictate the one who stands today.
Your future begins not from your wound, but from the one who refused to stay wounded.
“And we will carve out a tomorrow that belongs to us.”
This is the shift from I to we. This is not solitary survival anymore — it is collective insurrection.
Every survivor who refused to stay silent is standing with you.
Tomorrow is not given by God, by guru, by state, by fate. It is carved. With your own nails if necessary.
“Yes — the answer has always been right here.”
The abuser made you think they held the key. The system made you think the answer was far away.
But the Kaula secret is this: the throne is in your chest. Always was. Always will be.
The pounding heart that would not die is the answer itself.
Verse 2
Romanji:
Sugita kisetsu wo nagaku hima wa nai
Nido to mayotte shimawane youni
Kazoe kirenai hon no sasayaka na
Sonna koukai kakaeta mama
Translation:
There’s no time to spend dwelling on seasons already gone,
So that I never lose myself in hesitation again,
Countless tiny, almost insignificant regrets —
I carry them all with me as I go.
“There’s no time to spend dwelling on seasons already gone,”
This is not spiritual detachment. This is battlefield realism.
Kaula never says “forget the past” — Kaula says “do not drown in it.”
The past may have broken your bones, but it doesn’t get to own your calendar.
There is work to do. You do not have time to bleed forever.
“So that I never lose myself in hesitation again,”
Now comes the vow. Not the vow of a monk — the vow of a survivor.
Hesitation is how they get you.
Abusers thrive on your self-doubt. Systems thrive on your paralysis.
This line is a blade across the throat of hesitation.
Never again will I question whether I have the right to stand.
“Countless tiny, almost insignificant regrets —”
People think transformation means “letting go of regret.” Wrong.
Kaula doesn’t throw regret away — Kaula recycles it.
Each regret becomes fuel. Each mistake becomes acceleration.
You don’t need to be clean to rise. You need to be charged.
“I carry them all with me as I go.”
This is anti-purity. Pure Tantra.
You do not wait to be cleansed. You ascend bleeding.
You do not drop your scars — you wear them as armor.
Everything they said made you unworthy becomes your ammunition.
Pre-Chorus (Reprise)
Romanji:
Sono senaka dake oikakete koko made kitan da
Sagashite ita boku dake ni dekiru koto
Translation:
I chased only that back in front of me, all the way to this point,
Searching for the one thing that only I can do.
“I chased only that back in front of me, all the way to this point,”
This line hits differently depending on your wound.
For some, “that back” is the one they admired — a mentor, a hero, a guru.
For others, it’s the one who betrayed them — the one who stayed ahead only because they trampled you beneath.
But read carefully:
This is not a line of shame. It’s not “I was a fool to follow.”
It’s “I chased you — and because of that, I reached here.”
Meaning:
Even if I followed the wrong one — I still arrived at the right fire.
The one who misled me still delivered me to the threshold of my power.
This is Kaula inversion at its finest — even misguidance becomes fuel.
“Searching for the one thing that only I can do.”
This is the ignition point of sovereignty.
No matter how deeply someone exploited you, no matter how much they tried to erase you —
there is still one thing they could never replicate: your unique trajectory of becoming.
Even your pain is uncopyable.
Even your fall is unrepeatable.
Which means your resurrection will be unmatchable.
This line is the birth of Dharma as destiny — not assigned by scripture, but forged in blood.
Second Chorus
Romanji:
Ano hi kureta kotoba ga ima demo
Kono mune ni tashikani todoiteru kara
Kinou yori mo kyou boku wa
Boku no umaretekita wake ni kizuete yuku
Kotae wa sou itsumo koko ni aru
Translation:
Because the words you gave me that day still
Resound clearly within my heart even now,
Today, more than yesterday,
I am beginning to understand the reason I was born,
Yes — the answer has always been right here.
“Because the words you gave me that day still resound clearly within my heart even now,”
Depending on who “you” is — this line becomes completely different.
For some, it’s gratitude: someone once believed in you, and their voice still echoes like a blessing.
For others — and this is important — the “you” may be the one who tried to break you.
Maybe their words were cruel. Maybe they said you’ll never rise, you’ll never recover, you’ll never be anything.
Fine.
Let those words resound — not as prophecy, but as challenge.
Kaula does not discard poison — Kaula ferments it into rocket fuel.
“Today, more than yesterday,”
This is not cheesy optimism. This is measurable ascension.
Not perfection — progress.
Even if you advanced only one millimeter — that is one millimeter further than your oppressor wanted you to go.
Every inch is blasphemy against their control. Every breath is profanity against their verdict.
“I am beginning to understand the reason I was born,”
This is not philosophy — this is physics.
Trauma scrambles identity. Betrayal erases purpose.
But there comes a moment — sometimes sudden, sometimes gradual — where the pain aligns into direction.
Not “Why did this happen?”
But “Because this happened — I know what I must do.”
This is Dharma as combustion.
This is Fate becoming Weapon.
“Yes — the answer has always been right here.”
Not in a guru.
Not in a religion.
Not in a book.
Not in forgiveness.
Not in forgetting.
Here. In the pounding chest.
The heart that refused to stop — that is the answer.
Bridge
Romanji:
Subete ga maru de atari mae mitaidatta
Tattoi hibi wa mada owaranai
Soshite mata
Translation:
Everything once felt so normal, so obvious,
Those precious days are not over yet,
And once more…
“Everything once felt so normal, so obvious,”
This is the moment when memory hits like a punch.
There was a time when life felt simple. When love felt safe. When you didn’t question your place in this world.
But innocence is not stupidity.
The pain is not just from betrayal — it’s from remembering how natural life once felt before the fall.
This line is not nostalgia — it’s sacred grief for the lost Eden.
And in Kaula, grief is not to be transcended. It is to be weaponised.
“Those precious days are not over yet,”
This is not denial — this is defiance.
It doesn’t mean “things will go back to how they were.” They won’t.
It means:
“My joy, my tenderness, my innocence — they are not dead. They were only buried under rubble. And I will dig them out with my bare hands if I must.”
Even if the world tries to turn you into a cynic — you refuse.
Not because you are naïve.
But because staying tender after being brutalised is the greatest form of rebellion.
“And once more…”
This is not a fade-out — this is a reload.
The ellipsis is not hesitation. It is chamber rotation.
Again.
Again I rise.
Again I run.
Again I burn.
Until the sky hears me.
Final Chorus
Romanji:
Hashiridashita omoi ga ima demo
Kono mune wo tashikani tatauteru kara
Kyou no boku ga sono saki ni tsuzuku
Bokura nari no asu wo kizuiteiku
Kotae wa sou itsumo koko ni aru
Translation:
Because these racing emotions still, even now,
Pound strongly within my chest,
The “me” of today will continue into what lies ahead,
And I will carve out a tomorrow in my own way,
Yes — the answer has always been right here.
“Because these racing emotions still, even now, pound strongly within my chest,”
Let it be known:
I did not rise because I was healed.
I did not rise because I was forgiven.
I did not rise because someone saved me.
I rose because my own heartbeat refused to die.
“The ‘me’ of today will continue into what lies ahead,”
I have been many versions of myself — obedient, shattered, silent.
But the one standing now — this version — is the one I choose to carry forward.
Not the one they created.
Not the one trauma sculpted.
Not the one fear rehearsed.
Only this one — the one who speaks.
“And I will carve out a tomorrow in my own way,”
No more waiting for permission.
No more hoping someone will finally understand.
No more begging for a place in someone else’s story.
I will write my own scripture with whatever is left of me.
If I must carve tomorrow with scar tissue — so be it.
“Yes — the answer has always been right here.”
Not in the sky.
Not in a temple.
Not in a doctrine.
Not in a savior.
Here. In the chest.
The pounding is not anxiety. It is summoning.
And I answer:
I am not done.
The Oath
I don’t need the sky to answer me anymore.
I don’t need a guru to confirm my worth.
I don’t need forgiveness. I don’t need closure. I don’t need anyone to understand.
I only need one thing:
This heartbeat.
As long as it keeps pounding, I swear:
I will not abandon myself again.
I will not silence myself to make others comfortable.
I will not let hesitation steal another year of my life.
I will walk with all my scars visible, not as decoration, but as proof.
I will carry every regret, not as shame, but as ammunition.
And even if no one hears me —
I will speak.
Even if no one believes me —
I will stand.
Even if the darkness swallows my voice again —
It will not be burial. It will be loading.
Because I know now:
The answer has always been right here.
And as long as it beats —
I am coming back.
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