＜形を失う、そのゆらぎと成り行きの行方＞

そこにはいつの日にか存在した命の記録とともに、積み重なった時間が眠っているのだろうか。
音の消えた雪の上に立つ時、足元の凍てつく土の中に形を失いながらも確かに存在する『かつての生』の沈黙を聴く。

あらゆるものはやがて土へと還る。
そして祈りは空に放たれ、その光もまたいくつものかけらとなり、再び大地へと降り注ぐ。
舞い散る雪、燃え尽きる花火、そして塵のゆくえ。

全てのものは等しく輪郭を解き混ざり合いながら形を失い、そのゆらぎの先にある場所へと辿り着く。


“losing form, the drift of flux and destination”

Does a record of life that once existed, along with layers of accumulated time, lie dormant there?

Standing upon the silent snow, I listen to the silence of “past lives” within the frozen soil beneath my feet-those that certainly exist even as they lose their form.

All things eventually return to the earth.
Prayers are released into the sky, and their light shatters into fragments, falling once more upon the ground.
Fluttering snow, fading fireworks, and the drift of dust.

All things equally dissolve their outlines, blending into one another as they lose their shape, finally reaching the place that lies beyond the fluctuation.