If I were dust
I have looked up at the sky countless times and imagined: If I were a seagull, I would spread my wings on the broadest sea surface; if I were a drop of dew, I would It will quietly fall into the soil and nourish the roots of flowers and plants; if I were a tree, I would grow to the desert, take root there and add a touch of green there; if I were... countless ifs, countless dreams under the night sky, Dancing in the air like a night elf...
If I were a speck of dust, the wind would carry me around, visiting various countries, seeing the customs and customs of each place, and experiencing the ups and downs of the world. I laugh for them, cry for them, float in the air, listen to the different melodies of the soul, and accompany people on the road of life. Even if my left hand is failure and my right hand is despair, I still use my little strength to encourage them.
Oh, it’s evening. I quickly rode the wind and flew to the western sky, where a dreamy fairy tale was staged on the sky. I stood among the dust and worked hard to play my role. The beautiful fire clouds were staged on the dark blue night with a hint of purple. Watching people's tired faces relax and children's innocent faces showing smiles, I performed harder. Night falls as scheduled, people go home one after another, and the birds return to their nests. I also want to anchor in Nuanyang Harbor. When the sun lay weakly on the back of the mountain and listening to the chirping of birds, I glanced at the earth under the twilight and said goodbye softly. Turning around, a tear fell, a very small tear, dissipated in the air, and finally condensed into a crystal dewdrop.
I did not return to the ground at dusk to look for a warm windowsill like before, but stayed in the sky and joined the collection of clouds. Tired, I hid in a corner and fell asleep. The next day, our group drifted a long way with the wind, chasing the setting sun and drifting to the west... Below is the barren land. The originally moist soil is now cracked into pieces. A pair of eyes 45 °Looking up at the sky - there were indeed no tears, but it was not because of the angle, but because they had not had water for a long time and their tears had dried up. There was a loud noise, and the companions around me turned into rain and dew, and so did I. Falling into the dry and hot embrace of the earth. I feel that my body is being decomposed bit by bit, being sucked out of nutrients by the soil, as if it has been squeezed dry, becoming weak, and finally disappearing...
I don’t pray to become a soaring eagle, I don’t expect to become a dominating lion king, I only hope to become a small speck of dust - a speck of dust that is insignificant in the secular spring mud, but is proudly dedicated.