I cradled a reverie—
To wake the cosmos’ secret fire,
To brush the Milky Way’s soft sigh
Against the yearning tips of dawn.

But Fate, that pitiless sculptor,
Ripped my spirit into silent shreds,
And sorrow flooded every pulse
Until pain became my hollow hymn.

My dreams lay shattered—brilliant shards
Sprawled across the void’s cold altar—
And dragged me through hell’s yawning maw,
Where I howled my grief to starless skies.

Yet in that tenebrous crucible,
A single ember dared to glow:
A spectral halo of pale promise,
Whispering of dawn’s unclaimed light.

With trembling limbs I rose, ragged,
Chasing that argent flame through doubt,
Through every serpent hiss of “yield,”
Through the sting of wounds too raw to heal.

Now here I stand, clutching fractured hopes,
The halo dancing just beyond my reach—
Its radiant breath urging me onward,
To pierce the darkness with my pulse.

For life, like starlight, flows relentless—
Unyielding, radiant, ever forward—
and I, though broken, burn anew,
Pursuing dawn’s embrace into the sky.
          --Nam