A flash in the pan.
So far, I can't forget the surprise of seeing epiphyllum at first sight-the moonlight is like practice, the cool wind is like water, it opens its arms so lightly, and it is as otherworldly as an elf, without any distractions, which makes people suffocate.
But it's so short.
The price paid for this beauty is that life is short, no tears, no hesitation, and it has disappeared, leaving people with only infinite sighs and memories.
Life should be like this; Beauty, you should.
No matter how beautiful the flowers are, they will grow old day by day. Instead, it is better to be like a epiphyllum. Although life is short, it will remain young forever.
In the world, I have never let any remaining branches and leaves defile my innocence.
Epiphyllum is beautiful because it shows the ultimate beauty of life-the short-lived beauty that makes people soul-stirring and fall for it. From this, it can be thought that the beauty that really makes people tempted in the world is nothing more than a flash in the pan, but it is fixed in people's hearts for a short time-a cup of hot tea in the middle of the night, a pair of tenderness that moves tears, a fearlessness in the face of difficulties, a detachment from a high-rise building alone, a comfort in a desperate situation, a tear that moves the depths of love ... fixed in people's hearts.
Don't say that they are too short-lived, and don't say that they can't last long. They just obey their own inner strength, earn it from their hearts at the most appropriate time, and show it to the world with a clear eye and a little bit of arrogance and sadness. A touch of affection can prolong their lives for thousands of years-the best place in the world is the memory in people's hearts, and the beauty of living in people's memories does not exceed thousands of years?
The body dies, but the spirit lives on. Don't stop in the garden, because there are no unbeaten flowers; Don't indulge in realistic pleasures, because there is no inexhaustible wealth, and don't dream of immortality, because without spiritual support, it is just a walking corpse. It is better to be an epiphyllum, which floats away at the most beautiful time, leaving only a wisp of fragrant soul.
Be an epiphyllum, leaving your fragrant breath and your transcendental beauty-short life and extreme beauty.
fallen leaves
Yan Shu
The autumn wind suddenly rises, and the pool is full of slim lotus leaves. As rich as frost, with a lotus flower that wants to say but is ashamed, it adds a tragic gloom. Tian Tian is like a dancer's skirt, and the sky is as beautiful as jade carving. Was taken away by the running water of time and taken to the unknown kingdom of heaven, leaving only beautiful memories in the dream.
A tall poplar tree by the pool whispers in autumn. Leaves fell one by one, and some swirled in the air for a long time before they reluctantly fell to the ground. It seems that I am reluctant to leave my mother, Dayangshu, who raised it. I often look back and say goodbye. Some fell from the upper branches and hung on the lower branches. It was a sincere hug and persistent attachment. Autumn wind is ruthless, and autumn is silent. After a shake, it was forced to leave the branch and slowly landed on the water. There is a thick layer of fallen leaves beside the pond. Suddenly, in a yellow layer, there is a dark green tender leaf, which is very bright. Why is this leaf so young? Maybe it is the last blooming leaf of poplar. It hasn't finished the course of life, but it is still dreaming of youth. Unwilling, ruthless autumn wind, with unhurried steps, arrived as scheduled with a cold face and was forced to leave the branches like other leaves.
They finally have to part, so they have no choice. Who cares about a green leaf that hasn't grown up?
Another autumn wind blew and the pond became noisy. The voice seemed to say, wait until next year.
Oh! I see that they are not depressed or sad. They are quietly brewing a brighter and better spring. ...
Wow-a burst of applause and the noise of the children interrupted my meditation. It turns out that not far from the pond is a children's palace. A white-haired old man, with a bright red scarf floating on his chest, is telling the children the story of the anti-Japanese hero. The children were moved by the tears of the little hero who died heroically for his country in the story.
Still silent autumn, rustling autumn wind.
When I was a child, I lived under a tile-roofed house. Whenever it rained, I could hear the intermittent and mournful sound of rain. When I grow up, I live in a reinforced concrete forest, and I can't hear the sound of rain. It seems that life lacks a lot of aura, something that can make people feel soft and weak, and my heart is slowly desertification.
So I miss the rain in the tile house.
Rain is weak and the lightest thing in the world. It can't knock down heavy reinforced concrete buildings. And the tile house, with raindrops on it, jingled and immediately made a pleasant sound. People who live in huts are also blessed to be close to nature in the rain. When the rain is sudden, the sound is generous and violent, just like hundreds of horses singing together, Malik gallops. As the rain slows down, the sound becomes weaker and seeps into your heart gently, like the breeze in your ear in warm spring. These tiles seem to be specially laid for rain. They play dutifully, and the hearts of those who listen to the rain will overflow with endless affection.
People like to sit quietly and listen to the rain when their hearts are full of nostalgia and regret. The old people have the ambition of "lying in the middle of the night listening to the wind and rain and dreaming of the iron horse glacier"; Dying beauty has the bitterness of "raindrops brighten yellow leaves and lights illuminate my bald head"; Acacia lovers have the vision of "the phoenix tree is raining, and it will drop at dusk"; Affectionate poets have the daydream that "the small building listens to the spring rain all night, and the deep alley sells apricot flowers."
Rain has become an emissary for people to decorate their feelings and place their wishes.
In my spare time, I was lucky enough to go back to the place where I used to listen to the rain. It happened to be raining lightly that day, and I heard the familiar and unfamiliar sound of rain. In the mist, there is a strange mood in the rain, and we haven't communicated for a long time. It keeps me away and shows me that it is strange to me, but I can feel the breath of its existence from the deepest part of my consciousness. There is a sense of carefree waking from a dream and a sense of vicissitudes after confusion.
Oh, what I met in the rain was the self separated from time and space, and it was telling me everything before. I hesitated. I asked myself: Who am I? Still the old me?
There is a saying: "Young people listen to singing on the rainy floor, and the red candle is faint." In the prime of life, the boat is listening to the rain, the river is wide and the clouds are low, and the broken geese are called the west wind. "Different life situations make people feel different when listening to the rain. However, listening to the rain is all about listening to the dialogue of the soul, listening to the flow of true feelings and listening to the flow of years. In addition to the echo of the years, the sound of rain also brings regrets of the past and melancholy that I want to talk about again. It seems that only in the light rain of this tile house can the soul breathe and life continue.
The rain is still ringing, just like my real heartbeat. ...
plastic flower
Remember that dusty plastic flower on the windowsill? Although not as brilliant as before, it still blooms warmly and lives strongly.
Real flowers or plastic flowers, which would you choose? Maybe you will choose real flowers? Yes, real flowers are much more beautiful than plastic flowers, but their lives are short, short, and only that moment is wonderful, leaving only memories for everyone, although they are beautiful memories.
However, I like plastic flowers. They live happily without the bondage of life, no matter how much time and life they have left. They live a free and chic life. Even if they are covered in dust, they still can't hide the beauty under the dust. Maybe you will say that I am a coward and a selfish person who is afraid of death, I admit it! I am a little selfish, but who is not a little selfish? I admit it! I am afraid of death, but if there is no life, isn't everything nothing? Isn't it empty? Who can say from the heart that he has no fear in the face of death, right? At least I didn't find such a so-called great person ~!
Compared with flowers, plastic flowers are not wonderful at that moment, but they can persist silently and bloom the brilliance of life. It knows that it can have everything only if it has life.
I always think that people who want to make flowers are idiots. They all just want to be virtuous for a while, but they sacrificed their lives. Although they are great and brave in everyone's eyes, they are the embodiment of our national spirit. But how can soldiers fight without a healthy body?
I like plastic flowers, I don't have to experience the joys and sorrows of life, I don't have to bear the short fate of life, I don't have to live nervously ... Maybe I am a lazy person. Anyway, I like plastic flowers, and I like the life of being free and breathing freely. It doesn't have to be wonderful, as long as I can be happy. I don't like the lively atmosphere, that's not what I want. A vigorous life is just the realm that many people dream of, but
Enlightened by history, I rushed to Qufu and mixed my 120 thousand blood and tears; I rushed to Qufu, with my iron bones forged by five thousand years of worry and loyal intestines; I rushed to Qufu, with great wisdom and courage of young life; I rushed to Qufu, and I met a long-lost saint from every brick crack covered with historical dust ... one high threshold after another, one long step after another, one magnificent hall after another, and one deep courtyard after another. Qin brick, Han tile,,, Qing monument. The ancients were far away, and they could only look up at the glazed hall above ten thousand steps, leaving their ethereal thoughts drifting into the distance. In front, the majesty of the saints is high above, and you can imagine the great style of your disciples in the green grass; Behind him, the stained red wall, despite the wind and rain erosion, is still dazzling, and it seems that it can also reflect the figure of lightning and thunder in the Millennium. No one can tell how many times the sun has risen and the moon has set, but everyone knows that there is an ancient soul wandering in this sacred land. He stared at every corner of Kyushu day and night as promised, because the blood of his broad ideas flowed in every inch of land. Of course, he has seen the broadness of mountains and rivers, the lights in lanes, the sadness of the sizzling wind and the heroic roar of the sky. But in the end, he stubbornly stayed here, listening to the dusk and the morning bell day after day and accepting the visits of ordinary people. Unconsciously, I have reached the end of the road and turned to look. Is this just an ancient courtyard? No, it's a remnant of the frame carved by the years. Once upon a time, the earth was its powerful page, and brick by brick was its handwriting. Today, it is just a broken chapter, standing in all kinds of noise, for today's people to think about her original massiness and prosperity. History has given the people of China a Confucius, a sacred place, but it has also played a really big joke. Confucius was displaced all his life, but he was frustrated in the end. After his death, he left only three huts and a lonely grave for his descendants. Later Qin Shihuang burned his book; Later, Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty helped him to match, and a piece of paper "respecting Confucius alone" made him visit the shrine for more than two thousand years. At that time, he seemed to have reached the peak and flew to Jiutianbao Hall. But no one ever thought that when the old gentleman slept quietly for nearly 2500 years, he shed the blood of "criticizing the hole" inexplicably. Someone knocked down his monument, smashed his statue and dug his grave. Poor Saint I traveled around before his death, but it was hard to find a clean side behind him! I can't remember how many emperors put on your mask and killed them; How many scholars are commenting under your banner? You're exhausted. Times have changed, because you have no choice but to light the torch of the decline of each dynasty. You personally sent every king a set of shackles that bound the people, but you don't understand that the person who locked the deepest is yourself! Sadly, Wenxuan Wang, a great sage, has become a ceremonial rule of imperial power! In the earth-shattering music of the founding dynasty, you are just a worshipper standing on the bottom steps. Today, Dacheng Hall is still full of cigarettes, full of fragrance and smoke. I don't know why, Old Master Q came to me calmly, smiling with a mortal smile that has remained unchanged for thousands of years. The pen of history began to tremble in my hand, and the smiling old man in the textbook was painted with too much oil. Give the world a real Confucius, and the old man can't get up any more.