Dreams bloom on the ruins
The sky is still dark.
Like a gray heart that has not yet opened.
Last night's thrilling night rain
Wash away gloomy disappointment
Look at the ruins in front of me
I will pick it up slowly after the sun comes out.
See the seedlings on the broken tiles?
I was suddenly full of confidence.
Wait for the dark clouds to clear.
Waiting for the crow of dawn
Thin-winged butterflies flap their wings.
I witnessed its life.
This is an often dark wilderness.
The indifferent figure shows that the helpless loneliness may come from the teasing of dark clouds.
Perhaps it stems from the preference of fate.
Sunshine seldom comes seriously.
Ye Fang is also very picky and unwilling to participate.
Occasionally, the mountain wind caresses the traces of desolation.
Sobbing seems to be mixed with the unspeakable sound of pain history.
This once glorious paradise
Now it's just a cycle of time.
Now it's just a forgotten ruin.
I don't know what year it is.
But it can't be too far.
Probably because of loneliness.
Still a butterfly
I can't bear to worship.
Or ambitious.
A gray cocoon unexpectedly appeared.
At the same time, new green leaves grew on the gravel, thinking that cocoons were just the impulse of moths to put out the fire.
I thought the green leaf was just a grass left by a greedy bird.
Thought the world would never see hope.
Think that the world will always be just ruins.
Who cares?
So everyone ignored the whispers that had been brought out in the mountain wind.
That is the only dream left in the ruins.
It is a dream that sends out its wishes.
Plant its last seed at will.
If fate has no intention of scanning this ruin,
It will shake its head, convinced that unless the power of dreams.
Ruins are always just ruins.
When I finally waited until the dark clouds cleared again.
There is a small gap in the gray cocoon.
Pink buds spit out on the green leaves.
The crack gradually cracked and the skylight outside penetrated deeply.
Pink buds gradually expand and grow, emitting fragrance.
When a butterfly with thin wings flies.
The bud blossomed into a perfect flower.
Once a beautiful dream is sown, the water under the bridge
Hope only needs to see a glimmer of light.
The dark clouds have cleared.
The dream flowers on the ruins are graceful and touching.
So the fate of irreversible resistance.
All the land where dreams are sown has a gorgeous counterattack.
Don't worry about the ruins losing their luster.
Dreams are lost and forgotten hopes.
That careless seed can harvest a new spring.
Pupa is hope, green leaves are hope.
The ruins remain in our hearts forever.
There are ruins everywhere.
And only dreams can make it blossom into fragrant flowers.
Dream sky
although
Dreams will become dreams.
Difficult to achieve
although
Ideal distance reality
So far away
but
There is still a blue sky of dreams in people's hearts.
Shed tears and sweat for my dream.
Dream sky
It is the hope of life.
Is the goal to be pursued
Is the source of strength.
Dream sky
It is a fairyland on earth in my heart.
This is the paradise in my dream.
This is a space where ideas can fly freely.
Dream sky
The sky is exceptionally blue.
Dream sky
The sunshine is exceptionally bright.
Dream sky
There will be no sadness and loneliness.
Looking for a dream
Once,
Have a little wish.
Later,
Into a dream fluttering in the wind.
In ignorance,
The dream has already drifted away.
In a daze,
I lost my way in life.
In persistence,
I once longed for Iraq.
People who can forget to guide street lamps.
Finally,
In a hurry,
Epiphany, life tells me,
To find the lost dream.
So,
I looked and looked,
I saw it waving to me in the distance.
That's the road to dreams.
That's the intersection where I met teenagers.
It's just that this road is full of thorns
But life says,
Without cruelty, there is no courage.
Fortunately,
After thousands of pursuits,
Finally overlooking.
Since then,
I only care about the hardships.
Ideals, dreams and fantasies
Ideal is made of silk.
The ideal was broken and fell to the ground.
Some are lost, some are sad,
Pick it up, weave it again, and continue an ideal.
Dreams are made of jade.
The dream is broken, the ground is broken,
There is no place to throw it, and I don't want to throw it.
Pick it up quietly and hide it in the bottom of my heart.
Fantasy is a rainbow on the horizon.
It won't break, but it will disappear,
The children are excited to see it.
If adults see it, they will only laugh it off.