The path bends like a quiet thought,
each curve hidden beneath a rain of petals.
Soft pink drifts through the morning air,
touching earth as lightly as an unspoken word.
Cherry trees lean toward one another,
their branches weaving a sky of pale blush.
Every falling petal is a moment released,
a reminder that beauty is both gift and farewell.
Ahead, the horizon glows with a tender fire.
The sun rises not as a command,
but as a gentle offering,
warming stone, leaf, and the silent breath between heartbeats.
A lone figure walks without urgency.
The robe is plain, the lantern modest,
yet its golden halo folds the dawn into the present step.
No destination calls, only the unfolding now.
With each footfall, the world answers in stillness.
The petals continue to fall.
The light continues to grow.
Nothing more is needed.
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