POETRY · PROSE · ARTWORK
Where seasons become words.
“A stranger among strangers, yet this joy of the night warms our souls.”
POETRY · PROSE · ARTWORK
“A stranger among strangers, yet this joy of the night warms our souls.”
FROM THE PAGES
“In spring we meet, when the first flowers are blooming.
We wave goodbye as the last cherry blossom petals fall.
Bright as fire, our ending sparks like fireworks on a summer night.”
I
NIGHT
Banpo bridge,
solitude & joy
II
SPRING
First bloom,
first goodbye
III
SUMMER
Chaos outside,
peace within
IV
AUTUMN
Butterflies dance,
am I enough?
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PAGE FOUR
The Whirling Butterflies dance and bloom,
from summer into autumn.
What should I do, what do I want?
Will any of it ever be enough?
This life has only one end, death.
Yet, am I living my best season?
THE COLLECTION
PAGE ONE
Waterfalls dance at Banpo bridge,
silk-blue veiling the night.
Between the crowd, I stand alone,
solitude sung into the heart.
A stranger among strangers,
yet this joy of the night warms our souls.
PAGE TWO
In spring we meet, when the first flowers are blooming.
We wave goodbye as the last cherry blossom petals fall.
Bright as fire, our ending sparks
like fireworks on a summer night.
PAGE THREE
Dry summer arrives, and the scorching sun
burns deep into my skin.
The world fills with chaos, people taking sides.
Yet peace, it blooms inside our hearts,
quietly saving us.
PAGE FIVE
Don’t you wonder who actually knew you?
No one, actually.
But do you even know yourself?
AVAILABLE NOW
A quiet journey through seasons, solitude, and the art of being alive.
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THE WRITER
A writer and traveller, finding poetry in the in-between moments — bridges lit at night, cherry blossoms falling, the quiet chaos of a crowded city. These pages are a record of seasons lived, felt, and carefully kept.