The Traveler in Time

Time marches steadily to the left, from the faint light of dawn to the gathering dusk, from the first bloom of spring cherry blossoms to the drifting snow of winter.

It never stops for anyone, yet quietly leaves deep and shallow marks in our lives.

Memory settles into poetry to the right, those paths walked side by side, the stars talked about in the deep night, the warmth handed over in times of disappointment, all become the most touching footnotes in the lines of poetry. In the end, we have all become people moving forward with stories.

Bending down to accommodate the trivialities of life during the day is the warmth of preparing breakfast for the family in the morning, the patience in meticulously addressing demands at work, and the long sigh of relief after properly resolving unexpected situations.

At night, calming down to tend to the wrinkles of the soul is the gentleness of brewing a cup of hot tea and flipping through old photos, the honesty of sorting through emotions in a diary, and the determination of silently cheering for oneself under the moonlight.

Though life is exhausting, I have never thought of retreating—because I know that every bit of persistence brings us closer to the life we desire, and every story helps us become a better version of ourselves.