
π Autumnβs Whisper β When Everything Begins to Let Go
κ°μμ μμμ β λͺ¨λ κ²μ΄ λμμ§λ κ³μ
When leaves turn red, the world begins to exhale.
μμ΄ λΆκ² λ¬Όλ€λ©΄, μΈμμ λ§μΉ¨λ΄ μ¨μ λ΄μ°λ€.
Autumn is not the end, but a quiet release β
κ°μμ λμ΄ μλλΌ, κ³ μν λμμ§μ΄λ€.
The trees do not mourn their falling leaves.
λ무λ λ¨μ΄μ§λ μμ μ¬νΌνμ§ μλλ€.
They simply let go, trusting that spring will remember them.
κ·Έμ λμμ€ λΏμ΄λ€. λ΄μ΄ λ€μ κΈ°μ΅ν΄μ€ κ²μ λ―ΏμΌλ©°.
We, too, must learn from autumn β
μ°λ¦¬ λν κ°μμκ² λ°°μμΌ νλ€ β
to let go of what has already served its time,
μ΄λ―Έ μ μν μ λ€ν κ²μ λμμ£Όκ³ ,
to trust the silence between endings and beginnings.
λκ³Ό μμ μ¬μ΄μ κ³ μλ₯Ό λ―Ώλ λ²μ.
In that stillness, life is quietly rewritten.
κ·Έ κ³ μ μμμ, μΆμ μ‘°μ©ν λ€μ μ¨ λ΄λ €κ°λ€.
And we realize β
κ·Έλ¦¬κ³ κΉ¨λ«λλ€ β
that beauty was never in the holding on,
μλ¦λ€μμ λΆμ‘λ λ° μμ§ μμμμ,
but in the grace of letting go.
λμμ£Όλ κ·Έ μκ°μ μ°μν¨ μμ μμμμ.
Β© 2025 wanderingJP β Every step of the journey becomes a story.
μ΄ κΈμ wanderingJPκ° μ§μ μ°½μν μ½ν
μΈ μ
λλ€.
νκ°λμ§ μμ 볡μ , μΈμ©, μμ
μ μ΄μ©μ κΈν©λλ€.
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