A strong tree keeps growing on the vast land. Cang Sang's years are deposited in one ring after another, and yellow leaves are piled up on the ground. Dense tree crowns and green leaves have endless vitality and constantly extend to the distance.
However, one day, the seemingly strong tree will collapse overnight, and countless small flowers, grasses and saplings will stand proudly beside it. At the moment of curtain call, countless new lives will flourish.
This makes me feel a lot about the cycle of life.
Just the day before Tomb-Sweeping Day this year, my family and I went to the cemetery to visit the grave. Next to the cemetery, there are dense trees, which set off the decaying grave. The wind blew, the leaves swayed and landed on the tombstone, and strange and friendly names were engraved on the stone tablet. Some of them are rough because of too long polishing time, but it can still be seen that some people are exquisitely carved and exquisite. Every generation's reverence for their deceased relatives is manifested in this simple stone tablet, which is even more awe-inspiring
Through the rows of quartz stones, I found the name of my great-grandfather who was gilded. His voice and smile seemed to appear in front of my eyes: kind smile, full of the color of the times; The cold urn, like a barrier, blocks the reality and the sacred world, but it can't block the blood and spirit. What my grandfather left behind before his death cannot be washed away by time. Maybe it's called gene in biology and root in Chinese.
Another gust of wind blew, and a few yellow leaves fell on the treetops, maybe they didn't fall out in autumn! It should still want to see how its children and grandchildren are, so it stubbornly supports it until it is satisfied and leaves forever.
When I was a child, my grandmother told me that my great-grandfather died when I was two months old. He was very ill, but he still insisted on seeing me born. The old calf watched the calf jump between mountains and seas at dusk before leaving. At that moment, the old man must be thinking, there is no regret in this life, and the leaves return to the roots!
Mourning day, drizzle like tears; Pedestrians on the road want to die. There is no light rain, but there are bustling cars coming and going. There are few people on the roadside, it is quiet, and passers-by are silent. Immersed in grief and memories.
Everyone has his own ballast stone. The penis is passed down from generation to generation, and it is endless.