Author Archives: TaeHun Yoon

Conscience is a fire underground.No law can smother it. Beneath this Smoky Mountain clay—two feet, no more—a mountain waits. Easter draws near,not with trumpetsbut with a gathering weight. Passion will press through the soil.Stone will loosen its hold.What was hiddenwill … Continue reading →

Once, in another forest,I walked beside the quiet pondwith Henry David Thoreau—learning how little a life requires,how pine and waterwrite their patient lessons. Once, beneath a wider sky,I listened with Wilhelm Reichfor the hidden pulsemoving between breath and cloud—body and … Continue reading →

Between the wires,where current hums without thought,a paulownia once stood—too near the careful reach of power. It fell. The stump was burned.Fire entered the heartwood,left a hollow—a dark mouth in the earthbreathing smokelong after the flame was gone. Years went … Continue reading →

by TaeHun Yoon, 3/3/2026 Departing happens quietly.Not with the crash of doors,but in the almost-silencebetween one breath and the next. A word spoken.Or withheld.An eyelid closing.A hand, once tightly held beneath a deep embraceloosening without ceremony. For days nowmy heart … Continue reading →