Passing Way

Passing scenes accumulate like quiet moments I chose to keep. I do not chase or shape them—I just hold them as they are. Between window glass and reflection, between others and myself, a silent trace remains.

There is stillness within movement,

and separation can coexist with comfort.

Time gently guides our gaze—

to the raindrops on the window,

to the scenery beyond,

to the folds of a bus curtain.

Distance becomes a form of care,

and time, a source of ease.

Leaning into the rhythm of a moving vehicle,

we take in the passing moments.

There is no conversation,

but in the slightly distanced gaze,

sound seems to echo, and silence settles in.

In that way, a day comes to a close.

We are all passing through the same time.