Under the moon’s osmanthus glow, our reunion shall surely bloom.
Slow down, savor elegance and romance.
Breaths lengthen, Autumn deepens; air turns diaphanous, dusk wind melts into tenderness. Veiled in moonlight, we shall meet beneath its glow--idling in courtyard, watching osmanthus, listening to shadows hum with the breeze. Release obsession with perfection, adopt the osmanthus’s relaxed grace, the world softens, no longer rushing to compete. One moment blooming wildly, the next content to dissolve into soil.
Where are you? Osmanthus shadows sway--delicate, staggered. Whom do you yearn for in this moment? “An inch of longing turns to an inch of ash.”Grey--neither deep nor pale, neither black nor white--a glaze that shifts between intensity and fade, lingering between grief and joy, presence and absence. Let this Eastern sentiment carry your longing to the one you miss.
