Selected inspirational poems 1: Snow falls silently.
Accumulated snow
In fact, it began to snow at midnight, but many people didn't know they were still in a warm dream.
Quietly falling, snow, like petals floating from the sky when there is no wind, and like catkins floating from a distance when there is wind. I don't know what hints they want to give people, or what news they want to convey.
Snow falls on the roof where I live, on the street where I walk during the day, on the branches of dead trees by the bridge, on cars that stop breathing in twos and threes in the parking lot ... Snow falls in any corner where it can reach, just like the melodious sound of guqin, which can touch our nerve endings no matter how far away, making us feel that silence is the best at this moment.
Snow is silent. In the middle of the night, it didn't disturb this patchwork city, nor did it disturb the countryside which was a hundred times quieter than this city. The snow from high to low didn't disturb any of us or anything. The sound of snow will only make us sleep more deeply.
At night, it gradually brightens, and the world is like an eye that is recovering its light.
Selected Poems of Inspiration II: The Little Blank the Soul is Looking for.
Accumulated snow
I opened up a small piece of land with lights in the dark and began to wait in a daze in front of a blank sheet of paper, which was the biggest snow scene this winter.
I know I have lived in vain, and a person's mind can't be bigger than a season. My thoughts are at most a snowflake, or a wisp of dust that loves snow.
Tonight, the buildings in the city stand next to each other, the neon lights are flashing, the road leads the way, the crowd leads the crowd, and the voice of the city is speculating ...
My eyesight is unbearable, and so is my mind. Facing the night and blank paper, I am willing to give up my wisdom and labor.
Nothing is more ambitious than dreaming of a heavy snow. Tonight, my mood needs to be covered by another heavy snow, just like I tried to get out of the ruins of a pile of languages, empty-handed.