When the days are walking at the tip of the pen, I sit in my own city, watching the bright stars and moons, and watching the time overflowing with glass cups and lamps. I said, words bloom in time like flowers, and I will care and cherish them carefully every day. In the distance, there is news of my lover. Listen to him read poetry and read it into my heart.
Looking through yesterday's old works, I feel a little warm in my heart, but my memory is not old and I am still waiting for him. How many tender feelings are recorded on those thin notes, and the exile is like water, nourishing the blossoming love between the lines, half fragrant and half stupid. A loving woman will always find a peaceful place for herself and let her heart calm down in the colorful world of mortals, not to mend, but to hold hands with her lover one day and grow old together.
I can't remember the agarwood clouds of the years, and I walked in the world of mortals with an elegant attitude, which has formed a deep indissoluble bond with the world. Presumably, I must be the woman who traveled in Lu Yu on the Sansheng River in my previous life. A casual look back caused a dusty love affair. Or perhaps, it is also a lotus flower that has been practiced in front of the Buddha for generations. The quiet days of Qingdeng Ancient Buddha never washed away the dusty heart infected by love. One day, because of the people and things in his heart, he came to this world again without hesitation.
Whether in this life or in the afterlife. If you love someone, you must live up to it, count the days with one heart and grow old with him. If you can, in your lifetime, let your life look like a poem, walk slowly, like a cloud like running water, beautiful and trickling. If you can, choose a beautiful flower in time and watch it bloom in a beautiful year, with the encounter of wind and rain, the lingering of butterfly flowers and the love of short poems.
In the afternoon of June, I used to draw a thousand words on paper, and those flowers swaying in the wind smiled at the sunshine. You can't see the white flowers blooming in the corner not far away, much like gardenia competing with time and intimacy with the breeze, which is like whispering between lovers. Listen, a quiet melody rings, and the lively notes just catch up with the string of wind chimes under the window eaves, crisp and shallow. They danced together and enjoyed themselves like elves on the fleeting paper.
Days, along the long river of time, have been passing forward, and all things, people and feelings are still walking on the shore. Then, let's do it well and cherish it with a grateful and compassionate heart.
emotion
Make a cup of coffee and start watching the quiet time and the sunshine from noon to sunset. Listen to the wind blowing through the windowsill and turn over the book. Outdoor flowers come from afar to invite a date with butterflies, and so will the next year. When the crowd of the world of mortals awakens the cicada's drowsiness, in June, time is still in a hurry.
On a sunny day, I received a poetry magazine from Bluegrass. For the first time in my life, I saw my words appear in a literary magazine in the form of type, and I had too much joy in my heart. I never like high-profile, I am happy, not because of the publication of poetry, but because of an unspeakable feeling. A feeling that has already penetrated into the bone marrow, as well as the persistence of words.
In the world, there is a kind of love, which is affection, love and friendship. However, there is also a kind of love that is both happy and sad. I fell in love with words many years ago. I've been writing down the little feelings of broken thoughts in my own style. It is a kind of soul talk and a kind of soul sustenance. Because I love it, I can't refuse it without reason.
Many times, the lightness of countless elves was quietly knocked down. Those days when words are written into chapters belong to their own lonely years, and they never need prosperous decoration or everyone's understanding. A person's world is a happy and inseparable bodhi time, and it is a whisper that silence is better than sound in time. Every time I carefully count the changes of seasons, I see that spring comes and winter comes, and autumn leaves fall, a little melancholy and a little throbbing, and the faint feelings are just a glimpse when the wind and smoke are clean. We are only the most emotional people in the world.
The wind blows gently, but it can't dispel the feelings embedded in the eyebrows. When the quiet afterglow shines on the red cheeks, please let me take a look at this world of mortals and see that the prosperity of the whole city is finally shrouded in the darkness of night. Reach out your hand, clasp it tightly with transparent breath, feel the coolness of June wind, feel the looseness of body temperature in the context of words, and let the soul be free between heaven and earth. Even though, after all, I just live in the world of words and have a virtual dream; However, no regrets, heart-to-heart communication.
Close your eyes, breathe the air and smell the fireworks. Gently put pen to paper, no longer writing style, no longer painting beautiful eyes for it, no longer putting on extra clothes and feathers for it, just watching it not far away. This feeling is long, and it is not a satisfaction to live a lifetime in this life.
encounter
Standing in the red dust of the years, a white dress fluttered with the wind. In June, the passion of midsummer is burning the love in my heart, and I am quietly silent in the paradise of Qingning. A wisp of white clouds in the blue sky is white. At that moment, the empty mountain was silent, the vegetation was lush, and the mountains were surrounded by clear water.
What kind of woman, with a low eyebrow, provoked the world of mortals to look back. The calm plain face is my heartfelt love, and the temperament incompatible with the crowd is a trace that is difficult to find under the dim light, so I met him in the vast sea of people. You see, that silent gesture stands between heaven and earth, as if everything is listening to her, and silence is better than sound.
Facing the sunset, when the last thought falls into the fundus at dusk, the clear eyes splash and moisten the whole eyes and soul. Dear, when I haven't written a beautiful poem for you perfectly, please wait patiently, because I will put my life into your hands and be willing to write the most beautiful love poem for you with all my time.
At this moment, the sunset invites your shadow to appear in front of me, gazing affectionately, for fear that I won't find you in the blink of an eye. Smell the evening breeze blowing a fragrance, blowing to the horizon, when the sun's light shines through the clouds, is it saying goodbye to the day and night? Hold the pen, outline the appearance, make brocade with lingering feelings, make ink with tenderness like water, and make color with elegant words. One day I will clearly copy you in my heart for the rest of my life.
I still remember reading a passage, "Falling in love with you is like a legend." I unconsciously like this sentence, falling in love is destined to be a legend, a legend that is not old in life. She said that waiting for him is like waiting for a misty rain reunion, standing in the wind or leaning against the window to watch the passage of time without leaving a trace. When she said this, the sky was beautiful and her mind remained unchanged. Only a cup of coffee habitually accompanied her silently.
In fact, he doesn't know that all the affection is not only beyond words, but also has been woven into a fine net in her heart, firmly guarding the true meaning of love. More often, she writes and writes days as waiting. If she can, she wants to be a left-behind white lotus, which blooms cleanly without any dust, just for the cause and effect of practicing for thousands of years. If she meets him again in the next life, she will still love him as passionately as she does now, and love him until the last life.
Text: dull and silent