[CONTENTID1] a crack of light for his rain-soaked eyes [/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]

Does the word 'komorebi' ring any bell in your ears? Perhaps, it does or perhaps, it doesn't. Nonethelessly, it doesn't matter at all since it is never necessary to learn of this word. It's a Japanese word after all; a foreign quote that is appreciated by those who see the beauty and art in a group of alphabets strung up to create a meaningful word.

Most people will find it to be a bother and a waste of time, since we barely know the thousands of vocabulary that exist in our own language; the proper ones, the slang and twisted ones, the traditional ones. The list will never end.

It is still ignorant, though: to refuse to learn just because we can't grasp all the point of our own language. Words are like a bunch of collectibles, there can never be enough words that you'd like to know. They are a part of knowledge that can never be taken away.

Words play a huge part in making knowledge being able to be grasped in a literal way; our fingers pressed into papers to line the words we come across as fascinating or unknown, hands and fingers gripping to textbooks while we try to absorb all the smallest details and points about the topic we try to grasp, fingertips clicking to look up some information about what is happening around us, what kind of things happen around the world, what is going to happen to this world in the end. 

When you can grasp a lot of things that are invincible, lots of choices will be be laid out in front of you: of how you will choose to treat the world and the people around you. Some treat the world with prejudiced eyes, degrading people down for not meeting the standard values that they have learnt. Some turn a blind-eye to those knowledge as if it never exists in the first place, which is fine.

Knowledge is an eternal, solitary thing; it will continue to exist even without people acknowledging it. They are not humans, beings who can never survive by themselves. Some others bring up those knowledge in their daily lives, applying it and marking them into their bones like a religion, living truthfully in a straight road with no second option in mind to take the high way, that sometimes force you to go out of the right path. 

In life, highways are more trickier than the real ones in roads. They tend to take you away faster into your destination by sacrificing other people. 

The last ones is one of the most extraordinary of all, they form their own ideals from that knowledge to suit their roots and ways of life. They grasp knowledge as something that is meant to be treated like a part of life that is crucial in making themselves into refined human beings. Or perhaps not. They just want to live their lives to the fullest, after all.

There is a burden of responsibility in owning knowledge, also. If it's not placed in the right hands, it will only cause chaos and destruction all over the world.

The most righteous way when you grasp knowledge is that to see the world with wise eyes, to speak with more considerable words. Lots of things are not as strong and sturdy as it seem, humans with bones and skin protecting our insides are not as fearless and indestructible than we think we are, and relationships and bonds fall apart easier than we think they will. 

That way, the world will become a better place, I hope.

I try to play my part in turning the world into a better place. It's small, but I hope it will give the slightest effect to the people around me.

Komorebi, in Japanese, is that momentum when sunlight is filtered through the leaves of trees onto the ground. The light will be moved and separated and shaded, following the fluttering movements from the leaves. They shoot into the transparent shadows of the leaves, offering a glimpse of light and how it feels to be warmed by it. 

I remember every detail of how it felt to have its light splattered into my face. My face was drenched in tears that God has bestowed upon my eyes, to be shredded when my heart is not enough to contain all the pain running through my blood.

That time, my heart was not enough to hold all of these feelings of pain, longing and sadness from the death of my father. Back then, I had no words to describe those feelings.

All I knew was that it felt like the end of the world, like when I accidentally knocked on a pyramid of tuna cans in supermarket and it all came falling down. Embarrassing my parents, back then, is the first meaning of apocalypse for me.

I learnt the second meaning when my father died. Tears and more tears and wails, screams and heart trembling so bad, ripping it out of my chest would feel so good to end the beats inside of my body perhaps, with my feet running away from our house and I found myself laying beneath a tree.

Thirteen years old me came home to my weeping mother, and she was brought to the floor by the news, her in her working clothes and her cellphone slipping from her hands. 

I heard it all, that apologetic yet authorative voice coming out of her phone.

"-I'm sorry to inform this to you, Mrs. Park. Your husband's body is found dead in the storage room of his work place at 12 AM and the murderer is proved to be Mr. Kim Hyun Sook, his colleague. We are expecting your presence here for further details and explanations regarding Mr. Park's death and the adress-"

There, the scream. I heard it somewhere in the back of my head, my mother writhing in pain for two whole painful minutes.

I took it way harder than her and she collected herself to answer the phone instead of holding me back. My mother already believed in me that I wouldn't stray far away and if I would, finding my way back home wouldn't be a difficult task. She had said that I had known too much of everything to lose myself, and it was her blessing and her fault at the same time. 

It wasn't raining, there were no thunderstorms or hurricanes that are named after people, and tsunamis that will never be enough to sweep away all the pain I felt that time. The sun was gleaming oh so brightly in the light blue firmament and the air wasn't even heated. It was breezy and not hinted with any sign of rain falling from the sky. Clouds were far away in a distant.

Everything felt too clear when my eyes felt blurry and filled with tears.

Then, I felt something warm that wasn't wet in my face. Something aside of my own tears and my own morose leaking out of my heart. The tears fell as I opened my closed lids, but it fell because I held too much into it. I held on too long into the pain I should have let escape from my body.

The wind shook the leaves, and they all moved away in different directions until it stopped and let a crack of light filtered in. Of all the beams that shone in, one of it landed on the middle part of my face. I could feel lukewarm heat on my nose, my lips and my chin and it felt soft as I held out a palm of mine to grab a hold of it. Not everything in this world can be grasped after all. Unfortunately, those that can be touched instead that are ephemeral for most cases.

This light hitting my palm, escaping and separating themselves away as I try to hold it, is forever. Forever, as in it shall stay in this world from one decade to another. Something that will disappear and only to come back again. 

I kept holding out my right palm then, and stretched my fingers apart and it repeated what the trees did. Smaller sunbeams shone into my face as it was separated by my fingers, a little bit pudgy and not skeletal. I was wholly fascinated by such a small thing, and really it didn't bother me that much. It's always beautiful to love the ordinary after all, more than loving the beautiful. Finding beauty in such simple things is a precious feeling that I continuously want to feel.

For that one whole moment under the shadows of the trees, sun filtering in to accompany me with its warmth, I found serenity and peace even amidst the trage