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In front of Tomb-Sweeping Day, piles of solemn flower baskets have been set up in the streets. Different from usual, there is a word "drink" on the flowerpot to remind me that Tomb-Sweeping Day is coming.
Qingming, a desolate and barren word; Qingming, a heartbreaking festival; Qingming, an unspeakable image; Qingming, looking at these two words, my thoughts drifted unconsciously. ...
Tomb-Sweeping Day has been a festival for offering sacrifices to ancestors and the dead since ancient times, but with the passage of time, it has gradually increased the new connotation of outing. But in my impression, Qingming has always been the mouthpiece of sacrifice, the day to pay homage to ancestors and the dead, and the time for the living to communicate with the souls of the dead.
"There are many rains during the Qingming period, and pedestrians on the road want to break their souls." Yes, the soul-breaking is the feeling of Qingming! Imagine a dense forest, a path, a grave, a broken heart, two lines of clear tears, a few rare grasses, beautiful trees surrounded by drizzle, and faint wildflowers in the air. What is that artistic conception? (article reading network: www.sanwen.net)
I have to say that Qingming is really heartbreaking, the kind of heartbreak that permeates silence. During the Qingming Festival, standing in front of the overgrown grave and looking at the mound-like grave, I felt that kind of wordless desolation, and my heart was infinitely sad! I never thought that a grave would separate two worlds-life and death. "Relatives or sorrow, others have songs. What is the way to die? " The dead are gone, but the living are remembering bit by bit. The voice, appearance, words and deeds of the deceased before his death have now become the scars of the living crying and mourning. Besides, this scar can never be erased. It will split on the same day every year to warn the living not to forget with blood. This day is Qingming, which makes people feel sad.
In the silent night, I recalled and began to feel sad. Parents began to appear in my mind. Only a handful, I have been separated from my mother for sixteen years and my father for three years. /kloc-For 0/6 years, although I can't go to my parents' graves every year, every time I go, I stand in front of my parents' graves and look at the smoke coming from Ran Ran, which lingers in front of them, and my heart is sad. In a trance, I feel that my soul seems to have an ethereal communication with my parents' souls. I feel a deep kindness and a kind of blood that I can't give up ... As the smoke gradually dispersed, I slowly returned to reality, looked at the floating soul in the grave, accepted the reality of returning, and was at a loss.
"peach blossom powder apricot blossoms are white, and the rain hits the branches and trees; Pedestrians quietly descended, and several graves cried. " Qingming is destined to be a heartbreaking festival. Intermittent spring rain, misty smoke, if there is no crying is evidence.
I don't know whether the prophecy of our ancestors is valid or whether God intends to find a wet season to match the wet mood. These days, the sky has been shrouded in smog, and it feels easy to sing "It rains in the Qingming period, and pedestrians on the road want to break their souls; Excuse me, where is the restaurant? The shepherd boy refers to Xinghua Village. "
In this drizzly early spring season, because my thoughts exude faint sadness, in this mourning day, I miss candlelight alone, reminisce about my hometown, miss my dead parents, feel uneasy for several nights, recite the sad sentence of Qingming loudly, and shed tears when I am lost. ...
Missing is a kind of pain, listening to the spiritual call in the deep blood and looking at the parents' faces in the ethereal void. According to national customs, a few sticks of incense and paper money were lit in front of the door, cigarettes were wrapped around, and the ashes of ghost products were spinning sadly. The breeze silently sent them into the sky and vividly displayed them. At this moment, although Yin and Yang are separated, they are interdependent. Parents' voices are everywhere, hazy and clear, just like yesterday. ...
I miss the tears, and I miss the love of my parents in the past. It is difficult for me to repay my parents' kindness!
The breeze sends sorrow, and the drops are in rows; Today, the fragrance fills the air, and I don't know the past and present of the pure land of the Western Heaven.
I hope I can help you.