KML – Chapter Seven

Three little dots walk together—each step smaller than the last. 小 shows how something can be tiny, but still complete. Imagine three rice grains dropped in a row: small, but enough to nourish a story.

A small fire burns—just a few sparks, but enough to light the night.

A single person stretches arms wide to embrace the world—this is large.

Two dances of light, crossing in rhythm—what begins as a few becomes many.

The sun lowers like a hook in the sky—quiet and slow, it is evening.

Evening meets the sea, where tide and time slow down together.

The evening slips past the fence—freedom lies outside.

In the quiet of evening, a name is called—it glows with meaning.

A hard truth sits like a stone—solid, enduring, and real.

Two drops fall in the same way—separate, but with perfect resemblance.

The spark touches the stone—and the mountain whispers ‘boom.’

A warrior strikes the stone—not to destroy, but to reveal what’s inside.

The stone becomes soft, crumbling into sand—time’s gentle erosion.

A woman watches the sparkle in another’s eye—jealousy flickers like fire.

With each scrape of the blade, something rough becomes smooth—refined by removal.

A small fire sends out lines of light—what begins as a flicker becomes a ray.

A large person stands beside a drop of oil—soft and round, not just big but plump.

Four mouths gather above a bowl—each one waiting its turn. A utensil serves them all.

A nose meets rising air—what floats upward is more than scent. It stinks.

A mouth opens to speak, but the nose gets there first—sniffing out the truth.

A woman with few needs shines brightly—true beauty is in simplicity.

An eye peers into the small—reflection and focus reveal the truth.

A cliff above a child—protection, presence, and something deeply thick.

A large one with a bend—a sword or a story that ends strangely.