I used to think that no sound should echo to avoid imbalance in silence.
I used to imagine that peace had no scars of resentment and misery but would be filled only with brilliant light.

In reality, however, dark clammy shades of coiled despair and desires are blended with a ray of delicate sunlight shedding in-between space of tender petals of Ranunculus.
Like the Yin-Yan symbol, the completely opposite colors melt into each other. Harmony, instead of eradication.

A frequency of pains which I’ve devastatingly tried to tune out synchronizes with that of peace.
I enter into a place I’ve ever wished for. I’m becoming who I’ve envisioned.
Though it is beyond my anticipation, I know this is it upon the first step into the land.

Sadness never disappears even if it appears to be cured. The same volume of anguish as it was before swallows me.
But, it isn’t as heavy as before. I’m sad, yet it no longer belongs to the same pains. I cry from the new land.