Lead gray
Squashed the universe.
The blue eyes of the sky are submerged in the fog of the blind eyes.
It's like thinking of a silver tree.
Hidden in black paint, hidden in a deep stone door lock
Rust the body
Looking forward to a blooming blood-red rose to recall its longing for the sharp light of the magic lamp.
Like my hesitation and fatigue at noon.
Sitting gloomily under the eaves
Looking at the sky
Look at the ground
Ghosts are scattered under clouds, crawling on branches and walking in the shade.
I'm scared and weird.
They are ashamed.
Crawl, walk.
Tigerheart is very timid in front of them. He hides their gloom and conceals their concealment.
No one dares to speak.
The wind chimes of the seven-story pagoda fell from the pine trees on the mountain.
I can no longer hear the Sanskrit Amitabha, the sound of pines and waves, and the sound of bronze drums and gongs invented by monks from the south.
It's lightning
It thundered.
I suddenly dreamt
sparkle
From the sky, from the green, from the stream, from the bright tears.
Neon dress in butterfly light
Refutation,
Hesitation and fatigue have no burning ashes, and clouds are not the emperors who dominate the universe.