Second Verse of Life

A Midsummer Dream Returned I keep the coals of July within my palms, their hush of heat reminding me that embers can glow again after ash has named them dead. II Ten summers slipped like silver minnows— I reached and missed, reached and missed, until the river taught me stillness, taught me to kneel and let the water deliver what haste could never hold. III Tonight I walk the quiet length of moonlit air, no drum of urgency in my chest— only the patient swing of constellations and the low hum of my own pulse threading time back through its loom. IV So I dream without clenching my fists, for dreams are seeds that dislike tight soil; I plant them lightly, breathe once, step away— knowing dawn will test them, knowing some will live, and that is enough. English  I wrote the poem in four short movements to mirror the passage of a decade (“Ten summers”) and to capture a shift from restless striving to composed acceptance. Imagery : “coals of July” and “silver ...

On an unremarkable morning the drum-washer hunkers down, a round, unmoving planet in the narrow orbit of my laundry room. No warning, no helper— only the sudden sentence:    “Move it, or surrender.” I plant my feet, feel the ache of gravity in my spine, and heave against the metal moon. It does not yield at first, so I whisper every lesson life has drilled into me—    patience, leverage, breath. Millimetre by stubborn millimetre it slides, groaning like old ice. When the path is clear I stand straight, sweating, laughing: the cosmos tilts, and I remember that living is the art of shifting weight we never asked for, one determined push at a time. This poem captures a quiet yet profound moment: the sudden burden of having to move an immovable object alone. The “drum-washer” is used as a metaphor for life's unexpected heaviness, while the confined "laundry room" represents the limited spaces we often operate within. Phrases like “metal ...

The Song of Becoming The gods are silent — not by wrath, but by absence. Meaning falls like withered leaves, yet in the hollow, a new seed stirs. I will not weep for fallen temples. I will build with bare hands, under a sun that forgets no shadow. If pain must return with every dawn, I will greet it — laughing, forging from its fire a name that no wind can erase. I do not seek salvation. I seek to burn, until even ash dares to dream. Commentary This poem encapsulates Nietzsche's philosophy in daily human language: The gods are silent symbolizes the death of God: the collapse of traditional absolutes. Meaning falls like withered leaves reflects the rise of nihilism — a loss of inherent meaning. A new seed stirs represents the will to overcome nihilism by creating new values, the spirit of the Übermensch. Building with bare hands shows the creative courage to rebuild life without depending on old beliefs. Greeting pain laughingly is the accepta...

The Quiet Crown I left the road paved with my name, where laurels waited, whispering fame. I set it down— the robe of triumph, to gather yours in my arms. The nights sigh heavier now, but your laughter seeds the dawn. The mirror holds no medals, only the soft gleam of shared mornings. I chose not absence but presence, not applause but touch— a quiet crown, unseen, worn by the heart that stays. Interpretation The poem "The Quiet Crown" captures the profound and tender emotion of giving up a promising, individual career for the sake of family and a beloved partner. In the first stanza, the narrator acknowledges a personal road to fame and success that they consciously abandoned. The second stanza contrasts the weight of lost ambitions with the light and joy found in family life, symbolized by laughter and shared mornings. The final stanza affirms that the choice was made not out of sacrifice alone but out of a deeper longing for presence and connection...

Walls of Simple Silence I will not mend a world that will not know me— let the thrumming streets keep beating their own drum. I choose the hush behind my quiet masonry, a cloistered pulse where nameless echoes come. No brittle truce to soothe another’s anger, no feigned accord to varnish fractured hours; I bear no parchment promise, sword, or anchor— only the solitude that stills and flowers. Do not implore these steadfast stones to crumble; their calm resistance is my single breath. I clasp the dark where mourning swallows tumble and greet unguarded night as gentle death. Interpretation The poem voices a resolute withdrawal from a world that feels alien. The speaker rejects superficial harmony (“No brittle truce… no feigned accord”) and embraces self-imposed isolation behind “quiet masonry.” The “walls” symbolize boundaries protecting identity and integrity. Rather than waging a futile campaign to reconcile irreconcilable differences, the narrator accepts solitude as au...

Hollow Echoes Venom spills from careless lips, A chorus void of thought or grace. Words like stones, they blindly throw, Leaving scars on time and space. No thread of reason holds the fray, No righteous current guides the stream. Just clamor born of will's decay, A fractured, hollow, waking dream. What hand can still this rising tide? This phantom weight, this vocal dread? A vacant stare where thoughts subside, By echoes emptily are fed. Poem Explanation This poem, "Hollow Echoes," delves into the unsettling power and ultimate emptiness of baseless talk and malicious gossip. It explores the fear inspired by words spoken without thought or foundation, what the initial theme described as the "scary mouths" that "chirp" unknowns. The first stanza sets the scene with "venom spilling from careless lips," immediately establishing the harmful nature of such speech. These words form a "chorus void of thought or grace," highlighting the lack...

A King’s Last Breath The lamp of Judah flickers, yet still he speaks— A son, stand tall against the wind of years; Wear courage like a crown of tempered steel, And bind your heart to statutes carved in fire. Follow the ancient tracks of Sinai’s dust, Where words of covenant burn bright as dawn; Let every footstep echo Moses’ law Till promise flowers on the path you tread. Then shall the fields of Israel know their peace, And thrones be rooted deep in righteous soil; For lineage lives where truth and love entwine, And God Himself will guard the royal line. Commentary The poem imagines David’s dying charge as a glowing ember—“the lamp of Judah flickers”—yet his voice endures. Imperative verbs (“stand,” “wear,” “bind,” “follow”) mirror biblical commands, urging Solomon to active fidelity. Lines 5-6 allude to Sinai, anchoring obedience in the covenant tradition. The conditional promise of verses 9-12 echoes 1 Kings 2:4: dynastic security hinges on wholehearted devotion. The ...

The Well of Quiet A spark may leap from restless breath, its brief bright flare consuming air; yet embers scatter into ash— a barren field of broken care. I close my eyes and listen deep: a hidden well begins to rise, its silver thread of living peace unclouded by the angry skies. Wisdom moves with silent grace, no trumpet‐cry, no sharpened word; she tames the river of the heart until its roaring is not heard. Folly shouts along its path, but Wisdom guards the well within; each day I draw its shining depth and let tranquillity begin. Reflection  This poem contrasts the explosive, ultimately barren nature of anger with the steady, renewing power of inner stillness. The “spark” and “embers” evoke momentary release followed by damage, while the “hidden well” symbolizes a reservoir of calm that clarifies itself when we pause. Wisdom’s quiet strength subdues turbulent emotions, illustrating that self-mastery seldom announces itself loudly; it is felt in the gentle gov...

Sketching Liberty I trace the map of morning on the sky, ink it with roads that no border claims. Yet walls awake before the sparrows fly, their shadows lengthen, calling out our names. The city hums with engines built by fears, by wants unearned yet paid in others’ sweat; the louder chants of crowds drown out our cheers, each promise filed into the state’s vignette. Still in my pocket glints a quiet seed— a breath of hush where statutes cannot creep; I plant it nightly in a field of need, and water it with watch-fires while I sleep. Perhaps the dawn will find the ramparts whole; but somewhere freedom germinates the soul. Explanation in English The poem opens with an individual literally “tracing” a new map of daybreak—an image of aspiration before structures of power (the “walls”) rise to reclaim control. The “city” represents collective systems whose engines run on fear and unearned desires, highlighting how personal freedom is bartered away for imagined security. M...

Fleeting Time, Lingering Warmth  Like a river, time flows on, Reaching twilight on life's shore. Youth's bright fire, a memory drawn, Calm of autumn grass, and more. Things I grasped with straining hand, Lingering regrets I held so tight. Now released, on open sand, Emptiness fills with gentle light. Grandeur fades, and that's alright, Peace resides in simple days. Rushed comparisons take flight, Soothing self in quiet ways. Knowing not all can be known, Or possessed beneath the sun. Learning now to hold my own Lack, where little joys are won. Wrinkled hands trace life's soft grain, Dimming eyes see clearer deep. This, the gift time whispers plain: Warmth that fleeting moments keep. Understanding "Fleeting Time, Lingering Warmth" This poem reflects on the passage of time, using the metaphor of a river flowing towards twilight. It speaks to the acceptance that comes with aging – letting go of youthful ambitions and past regrets (...

The Pulse Unfolding A tremor starts beneath the soil, unseen, Where winter's hold begins to fray and thin. A tiny seed, a universe compressed, Awakens now from long and silent rest. It cracks the shell, a whisper turning bold, A tendril green, a story to unfold. Reaching for light, a patient, steady climb, Ignoring shadows, conquering the time. The sunbeam strikes, a warm and golden kiss, Igniting cells with pure, electric bliss. The sap ascends, a current swift and bright, Infusing leaves with emerald, living light. So too within, a flicker starts to grow, A quiet strength that helps the spirit flow. Each breath drawn deep, a wave upon the shore, Reminding us there's life, and so much more. This vibrant pulse, in root and vein and heart, Is nature's gift, a brand new, hopeful start. Commentary: The Pulse Unfolding This poem, "The Pulse Unfolding," explores the theme of life's inherent vitality, drawing parallels between the resurgen...

Resurrection in the Ordinary Awakened by dawn, the world softly breathes, whispers of renewal in the rustling leaves. Though yesterday was heavy with silent grief, morning gently lifts us in fresh belief. Scars are reminders, not reasons to cease, endings quietly bloom into moments of peace. Even loss carries within it a hidden seed— the life that arises fulfills deeper need. Change whispers hope through each new dawn, proving dark nights eventually withdrawn. Life resurrects daily, subtle yet true, an ordinary miracle waiting for you. English Interpretation: This poem reflects the theme of resurrection through everyday experiences familiar to English-speaking cultures. It emphasizes renewal as an ongoing process rather than a singular miraculous event, resonating deeply with a culture that values personal growth, resilience, and new beginnings. The imagery of dawn, nature, and subtle transformations align with Western sensibilities that cherish the symbolism of fresh st...

  An Evening Walk, a Healing Time Evening falls like quiet grace, My footsteps soft upon this place. Beneath a sky of fading hue, My spirit whispers thoughts anew. Muscles tired yet sweetly calm, The air, a gentle, soothing balm. Each breath drawn deep, a gentle art, Healing softly fills my heart. Stars emerge with tender light, Guiding softly through the night. In silence deep, my burdens cease, Walking leads my soul to peace. English Poem Explanation: This poem captures the essence of an evening walk following exercise, highlighting its calming and healing effects. The gentle rhythm symbolizes the peaceful cadence of footsteps. The fading light and emerging stars illustrate the transition from physical exertion to inner tranquility, emphasizing the restorative power of simple, quiet moments spent walking under the evening sky. 저녁 산책, 힐링의 시간 저녁이 조용히 내려앉는 은혜처럼 발걸음은 부드럽게 이 땅 위를 걷습니다 희미해지는 하늘 아래서 내 영혼은 새롭게 생각을 속삭입니다 지친 근육은 달콤한 고요함 속에 쉬고 공기는 부드럽고 위로를 줍니다 깊게 들이쉬...

Freedom's Anchor The old anchors drag, the weight of woven debt, A global sigh whispers through structures built on air. Eyes search, restless, for a shore, a solid place to land. And gold, it gleams anew, a familiar, heavy light, A flight from phantom value, from promises worn thin. But see beyond the gleam, a different kind of shore? Not bound by earth, nor held by watchful hands. A digital truth, finite as starlight, Easily shared, a thought crossing seas, Always awake, always ready to move. The ultimate bearer of self, unbound. We knew an age where keys could steal our time, Where diligent effort saw its worth erode, Forced into gambles just to stand still. A dark, strange time for simple, honest work. A time of chains you couldn't see, just feel. Now, a quiet hum, a return to what feels right. The slow, steady build, value holding firm. A place where sav...