The design hypothesis of the afterlife may be a mirror of the soul, and it may reflect my most yearning and farthest expectation. The afterlife is not a simple compensation and continuation of this life. It entrusted my unfulfilled dreams, and although I gained something, I comforted my soul with regret. I never stopped looking for it. What kind of life do I want?
Vagrancy is like hematopoietic cells in bone marrow, which often naturally produce and release new blood cells and flow through all skin and blood vessels. At the moment, my heart is in turmoil and I want to leave. But I have already been fixed in a fixed position, and the roots of my feet are deeply implanted in the concrete floor, allowing the common wind and rain to invade her. The body is constantly peeling off trivial fragments, gradually burying volunteers of travelers and geologists. Women in early autumn can't help it. How many rice and wheat shells, how many spring flowers and autumn fruits, how many joys and sorrows, and how many relatives are waiting for me in them? I don't have time to lift my sweaty cheeks and look at the color of the sky and the lightness of the clouds. ...
I miss the grassland, flowing water and green hills in the distance. I dreamed that I was drunk on a boat full of chrysanthemums, and the moonlight swept my face and cleared my flute. I saw the flame in the water lit the farthest flower, and my beautiful image was cleaner than the stream. After waking up, I realized that it was just a beautiful illusion. Occasionally, I want to fly by myself, kiss strange grass, step on fluffy and warm catkins and fly flowers, and let the cool air wash my heart. However, when the idea itself has become a luxury, the mind created by the cloud is still bound by trivial thorns, and the inexplicable taste suddenly spreads.
Repeatedly repeating the dream of growing up: the body is flat, flying slowly like a dragonfly, and gliding like a swallow, and the whole body passes over the dizzy happiness. And the flight is often interrupted by his own laughter and falls from a height. ...
A heavy body and a light and leisurely soul are often separated from each other.
The happiness of birds is to have freedom, and my yearning is a little more freedom. But everything in the world is not absolutely free, just as nothing can get rid of the gravity of the earth. After the experience, I know more clearly that the afterlife I yearn for is a state of flying-wandering purposefully, trudging at the end, caring about freedom, meeting and parting. ...
Just be a bird. There are no ugly birds between heaven and earth, gorgeous and simple, singing silently, and everything is beautiful and impeccable. God is undoubtedly full of preference for birds, and birds are the enlighteners of being kind to life. Let crawling and running creatures look up and admire, including human beings. Angels in the west, Chang 'e in the east, winged and wingless, have never surpassed the feathers of birds. Holding the drizzle in March and the chirping of the stars and moons, I turn sighs and tears into small buds, and let the sound of each rose warm the cold butterfly in the wind. Living like an elf, what kind of nature should I have to give birth to flying wings?
I am obsessed with literature in my life, but I still embrace words and love the realm related to poetry in my next life. Then be a migratory bird. Migratory birds set out from the source of poetry, covered with the brilliance of Tang poetry and Song poetry, hung with pollen and sunshine, and bathed in the homesick eyes of wanderers. Are migratory birds a symbol of hometown? Every year I hear the call of the northland to leave Chuncao. I want to bid farewell to Jiangnan, where the rain hits bananas. Who will follow my journey with tears? Go to Qiu Lai in spring and fly everywhere. South. North. Where is the rest garden of my soul? It starts and ends at home. Travel, homesickness ... these warm and cold words make my eyes dance. My hometown has enriched my resume, and farewell to my hometown has made me feel pain and sadness.
Are you leaving your hometown or returning home? The beautiful scenery along the way opened my curious eyes. When I got to my hometown, I went to look for the "old house" and the scars of the past; Or pick up the soft and warm old branches of perennial grass one by one and make a dream nest full of sunshine and rainbows.
"Jane Jane warehouse, the millennium is frost. The so-called Iraqis are on the water side. " I will never leave the Book of Songs. I worship water, love reeds and pity duckweed. I can't bear to part with any of the three graceful Iraqis. Reed flowers are dreamlike and hazy. Although they are not fragrant or charming, I love them. Let reed stems hook away the sunrise in my heart, and let reed flowers fill my little resentment. Who can understand this cold and hot image, this symbol without symbols, and this confession without confession? All the hints are in the running water.
Or just be a red-crowned crane. I stood in my heart, starting with the first crane. Suddenly I feel that this idea is too extravagant and perfect. It's just that I can't refuse the call of fate and the sweet trap I created. I like to wear red, white and black clothes. I love the warmth of red, the purity of white and the solemnity of black. This is the graceful gesture of the red-crowned crane. I couldn't help kneeling in the dancing lake. I hold a handful of red black soil and touch the pulse of life. The dust of past lives overflows from the corner of my eyes. I want to have a life that I only want to die by the water, and give me wings to tease the calm and broad-minded artistic conception of autumn rain.
Look up at Yunfei brocade, lie down and look at Yunxia, not worrying about the world of mortals. Look at the lush lakes, look at the lush reeds, listen to the sound of green liquid gurgling through the stems and leaves, and listen to the sounds of nature whispered by the red rock egrets. Or spend flowers admiring the sandbar, or spend the moon in the water, which is what my soul depends on.
In this way, I can get close to the blue sky I pray for the earth in the sky. I feel the sound of feathers rubbing against the sun. I feel the tenderness and trembling of white clouds touching their wings. Read the glow of thousands of weather, read the agility of fog. I hover, I low back. ...
To be a migratory bird, you should be a migratory bird accompanied by reeds and duckweeds in Shui Ze, a perfect elf with red, white and black feathers. For the dream of cranes, I will grasp the scale of spring and love. For the sake of this life and the afterlife, an ordinary corn, a bunch of cattail flowers, a faint firefly and a bright fish will all be vines that my soul clings to, and they will all be classics that I read tirelessly.
Measure the distance from heart to heart with wings and feathers. Even if you can't reach the far shore because of fatigue, why are you afraid of falling into the sea and being buried in the wide water, and how are you afraid of falling into the deep stream? As a migratory bird, I have no regrets. ...