© TaeHun Yoon

Ten claws—sharp as remembrance—
and two great wings
struck the temple,
yet no wind bore witness.

The air was still;
ears quivered, whispering No—no!
The sky, blue as tempered steel,
did not break.

Then a slender beam,
bright enough to wound the eyes,
slipped between the fingers—
a star in the shape of a lantern,
trembling in hand,
stepping down to touch the earth.

The path bent,
light flared and folded
like a struck match in rain,
then gathered at the feet—
and was gone.

From the deep gut of the earth,
a cool laughter arose:
spring water,
born from the belly of silence.

in 1997, then 2025