Crimson Loom

Past the Haeundae light, a fabric torn and thin,
I felt the new horizon call, where new threads could begin.
Gamcheon's vibrant patterns, ghosts of what I knew,
Now just echoes, as I stitch a path anew.
No more whispers of the old, frayed, melancholic dream,
Just the pulse of resilience, a radiant, steady seam.

Crimson Loom, endlessly spinning bright,
Weave my future, bathed in pure, unyielding light.
No fraying edges, just strength spun anew,
A boundless tapestry, bold and true.

The subway's ephemeral blur, a delicate lace pattern,
Each unknown face, a story I could learn.
My own doubt, a thread I tried to bind,
Now unravels, leaving shadows far behind.
A chrysalis shedding, a luminous self takes flight,
Woven through resilience, into boundless light.

No turning back, the strong seams hold so tight,
From alley's quiet dark to endless, open light.
This is my design, an unbreakable dream,
A vibrant, new direction, a shimmering, flowing stream.

Crimson Loom, ever bright,
My own design, taking flight.