The rails curve out of sight,
and I can’t say where they lead
or where I stand along them.

It seems everything has come
to a kind of waiting.

The old quarrels, the hurry
that once carried me forward,
have grown still—
like a field at dusk
after the last sound fades.

Only the wind moves now
across the open ground.

It brings a little dust,
touches my face,
and passes on.

So much of life
has gone that way—
near, then gone,
as if it never meant to stay.

But I have learned
not to trust only what I see.

For even the ground
that looks bare
is holding something.

The seed lies hidden,
and the stone once sealed
did not keep its place.

What was laid down in silence
was not left there.

So this waiting
is not empty.

It is the third day
not yet spoken aloud.

The rails bend on ahead,
out of sight as ever—
but not without promise.

For the One who went before
did not remain in the grave,
and the path He took
has changed the way of all roads.

So I stand here still,
not knowing the turn ahead,
yet trusting this much:

what seems buried
will be raised,
what seems ended
will be opened,

and somewhere beyond the curve,
life will meet me again.

— TaeHun Yoon, 3/23/2026