Original author: puppy small page
The geese have gone to the sky, and the idle season is boundless. The fallen leaves messed up the days and the time fell. Looking at decadence with the remaining withered eyes, there is nowhere to dodge. Exposed to the sun, naked dirty, naked sadness.
You are here, I am holding a piece of flying snow; You go ahead, I'll order a cinnabar. The circle forms a miss, and I want to send a book, and there is nowhere to retreat. Always looking for the most beautiful scenery on the road, but I can't see the vicissitudes hidden behind.
Suddenly, I'm old. The road ahead is still far, and the people in front are still looking forward to it. This is destined to be an endless trek. When you walk, the melody in your ear stops, just like the lights all over the world dim.
Why are you silent?
The wind, rolling up the waves of thousands of rivers, the mountains suddenly disappeared.
I asked, why didn't you answer?
Are you expecting, or are you suppressing the unknown confusion? Is it to remember drinking like a song in those days, or to miss the cloud that was once unbearable for water? Is it regret or nostalgia that makes you unable to extricate yourself? Yes, I also shed a bowl of heartless tears. I hate shaving before I meet you. Buddha said that you should treat your resentment as a favor to me, so what is love and where should it be? Buddha has no solution, so I have to trudge. When walking, forget love, forget yourself and forget Buddha.
Snowflakes float on the body and refuse to melt. The pallor of the sky is as old as the world of ice and snow. I can't find my way in the void. Where is the other side of my heart? How can we cross this July snowflake, these lingering obsession? Yes, it's hard to meet each other after a brief encounter. Love is heartless. Buddha says you hate me, so what is love and where should it be? Buddha has no solution, so I have to trudge. Forgetting your feelings while walking, forgetting yourself and forgetting Buddha.
The night is long. Wind and frost cover my eyebrows and make a nest. The morning light caressed the newborn baby, and the wind came. Will it grow up in the nest? I lowered my eyebrows and closed my eyes, as silent as an old monk. How to save this weak life, even if it is a seven-level pagoda. Yes, it seems that this star is not last night, for whom the wind and dew stood in the middle of the night. The Buddha said, if you regard your delusion as your obsession with me, then what is good and where should it be? Buddha has no solution, so I can't start over. My body has melted into a new life. I sat cross-legged and sang seven words of truth.
Why do I love you? Suddenly I saw you all white, and the half acre behind you was green. I just found out. The so-called affection and love are like this sapling and soil, like fertilization and watering.
Like, you and me. Even though we never met, we never left.