I was the Wave, the Silence, the Dance

Black ink surges from the sea— a resonance within, bursting from depths like the heartbeat of creation.

Waves carry memory. On white sand, traces remain: the path I walked, the way back, the road not yet taken.

To be born is to shed— without shell, without pretense, a being ripening in time.

The contours of life become a dance. Pain turns to art, a twisted body becomes the shape of beauty.

What I could not say, the echo that arrived late— yet in that silence, I heard myself.

Through all things, I have returned to this place. The wave, the silence, the dance— they were all me.

[Wind Series – Part 2]

• Original text written in Korean.

© TaeHun Yoon, Spring 1969