I

I walk along this bumpy road, whistling softly,

Carrying heavy baggage, alone, just to grow stronger.

 

I look up at the sky, my eyes blinded by swirling dust,

But see—something wells up inside,

And someday I reach my hand toward a distant star.

 

Keep walking, traveler.

Those deeply sunken footprints

Will be seen by someone whose name you do not yet know.

The one who is crying isn’t you—

It’s who inside 

 

​

II

“Life really is rough,” says the traveler to the trampled flowers.

My body is worn out, and a fierce wind blows through.

 

“I want to be strong, so I can’t stop.”

Flower sprouting in the soil,

I wish for you to stay beautiful,

Never spilling your weakness into the earth.

 

Keep walking, traveler.

It’s okay—even if you voice your weakness,

Flowers aren’t as fragile as you think.

If you don’t know how to love yourself,

Who can you truly love?

 

Thank you—I understand now.

Every single word you gave me

Lets me set down my heavy load

And take a breath against a great rock.

 

Yes, I had been ignoring it—

The unbearably beautiful music

Of this heart beating within me.

 

From that day on,

The traveler who kept walking

Began a new journey inward.

Sixty years later, when love with no finish line is fulfilled,

I gently close my eyes

And lower the curtain on the world.