Walking in the depths of a jungle where hay and rebirth meet.
The towering trees are exposed with green branches.
Leaves that refuse to leave in winter are swaying in the wind sadly, which is nostalgia for autumn, waiting for the new green to climb the branches to say goodbye.
At dusk, it waits in silence. I watch the beautiful swallow in spring, stirring the fragrance of spring on its branches. The yellow leaves are the back of winter, and gradually leave in swaying thoughts. I saw its wings, flying in the fragrance of rape flowers, and silent at the roots of flowers. It wanted to sleep here, turned into mud and looked forward to rebirth.
this is a farewell, reincarnation, and it has gone through a year that is not vicissitudes, and it has fallen into the dust with the breeze.
This is a hidden meeting, and it is bound to suddenly appear in my field of vision one day, like a beautiful jade that emerges from the shell in a stone and meets outside the accidental edge.
I read this farewell as waiting.
In the ambiguous dusk of the sunset, in a blank period, a person is walking quietly in the jungle, with the rustling sound of weeds under his feet, replacing the blank of his heart with the sound of footsteps, and the sound of sliding past tells me the feeling of fleeting time.
I can't see the loss in my heart, but the scenery in my eyes is becoming lush. They bid farewell to the whole winter and want to use an impeccable green to change the jungle into a set of spring clothes.
will the flower show be held? Yes, they tell you in quiet colors, how can they exist without flowers in this deep jungle?
I like to grow up without any plan, without any modification. At this moment, they should be crouching in a corner at my feet, watching me get close and look for them.
In the middle, I saw a kind of death. Next to an old tree, a pair of dark gray birds pecked at each other, lying quietly between the fallen leaves and the new grass. Nothing can surprise me anymore. I don't know whether they are fighting for food or going to a beautiful fable about love. I use human language to understand the death I saw, and it gave me a gentle touch, deep.
Xiaguang radiates an optical fiber in the open space in the forest, which is covered on the bird like a golden thread. The gray feathers are branded in this spring like an eternal oath. I thought they were melted in the blue sky.
Death is also a kind of farewell, with no worries, just like a decision when they are desperate. There is nothing to give up. What is this death in order to pursue the happiness they want?
The contrast between decaying grass and new grass around them is gloomy and somewhat relieved. I look at this kind of death from two angles. I gave them a few seconds of sadness and a blessing.
I read this farewell as sublimation, like a tired person sleeping in the dust.
When the heartstrings are touched for no reason, I think I loved at the right time, and I was deeply moved by all kinds of goodbyes.
Spring has quietly come to my feet, my eyes and my heart. I am wandering here because the flowers on my desk are blooming brightly. I wonder if it is necessary to be sad to say goodbye, because those beautiful petals are still few drops of water. This kind of quiet farewell in perfection has opened my heart. I think every kind of farewell has its existence.
Our eyes only see people and things ten feet away, and the inside is actually ourselves.