Sometimes, the world feels both breathtaking and harsh — like nature itself, beautiful yet unforgiving. Here’s a poem I wrote to walk with that feeling, to sit with the question of how beauty and cruelty live side by side.
Nature does not ask permission —
it carves rivers through stone,
blooms where no one’s watching,
and lets stars collapse in silence.
It paints the sky in colors no brush could capture,
then buries the deer in the belly of the wolf.
It makes no promises.
It offers no apologies.
Yet—
we are the ones who pause at a falling leaf,
who ache at the sound of a bird’s last flight,
who call the moon beautiful
even when it pulls our tides too far.
We are the softness it did not plan for,
the mercy it did not program.
We are nature’s whisper of regret—
or its dream of grace.
So walk gently.
The ground is made of both petals and bone.
And you — you are the question
that beauty and cruelty never knew they were asking.
Take this with you on your own walk, a quiet reminder that the world’s contrasts are part of its mystery — and perhaps, part of our own grace.