Beautiful dreams, like beautiful poems, are elusive and often appear at the most unexpected moments.
I like that kind of dream, everything can start again, everything can be explained slowly, and I can even feel in my heart that all the wasted time can actually return to ecstasy and gratitude. My heart is full of happiness, just because you are right in front of my eyes and smiling at me, that's all.
I really like that dream, knowing that you have traveled thousands of miles for me, but I feel delicious and colorful, as if you and I just met for the first time.
Looking back at this moment
In our world, time is the longitude and space is the latitude, and a series of joys and sorrows are carefully woven, which is very regular. In every corner and every knot, there is actually a secret code. At that time, we were at a loss, but when we looked back, we suddenly found that all the veins were vivid, and then smiled and understood the pain and sadness.
At the moment of looking back, time stays and never dies. The stream flowing under the shade of ferns and wild peonies is still young, the sky is full of clouds, and my heart is full of your love and care for me.
3 suiyue
Friends I haven't seen for years, it feels a little different to meet again.
Some people's eyes are sad, some people's mouths are cold, some people are happy, and some people are weather-beaten: it seems that the vicissitudes I haven't spent with my friends for more than ten years are vaguely written on their faces.
It turns out that the years have not really passed away, he just disappeared from our eyes, but turned around and hid in our hearts, and then slowly changed our appearance.
So young, no matter what setbacks you encounter in the future, please be sure to keep a heart of forgiveness and joy. In this way, when we meet again more than ten years later, I can easily recognize you from the crowd.
4 Prose Poetry: "Tonghua"
: "Tonghua"
April 24(th)
On the long road, I walked towards the continuous hills. I don't know where to stay, but I can tell him all kinds of unreasonable troubles during these ten or twenty years. The forest is clean and fresh, the mountains are tight-lipped, and no one will tell me about the coming flowers.
April 25(th)
On the long road, I walked towards the continuous hills. At first, it seemed like an ordinary encounter. If there is not a long-lost hope in my heart, I may have missed the faint information flow that once told each other in the wind and clouds.
The April wind blew, and the mountains were calm and smiled at me. In his arms, different shades of grass and branches of the same color danced with the wind.
I gradually approached the mountains, just hoping to know his mood at the moment. There was a vague whisper in the forest. At the end of April, life is brewing an aromatic change, a disturbance that cannot be completely predicted.
May 8
After the deep call, the whole world was shrouded in the shadow of snow-white flowers.
The sky is clear, the mountains stretch, and clusters of white flowers are like flowing rivers. It seems that all life in the world should come by appointment. At this moment, in the sunshine as transparent as honey, they cheered at the same time and rotated at the same time, turning into countless floating points.
Such an afternoon full of white flowers always feels deja vu, and always feels that it is an aggregation that can be put into any kind of time and space. It can be put into the Book of Songs, Chu Ci, classicism and post-impressionism-there should be such an afternoon and such an early summer in any beautiful record of mankind.
There is always such an early summer, there are always sunny days, and white flowers are in full bloom at the top of the tree. There is always a woman in red walking through the green field, and the breeze takes up her skirt and hair tips. There are fresh tea, flowers and thin sorrel in the field.
Snow-white flower shadows and winding paths appear repeatedly in poems and paintings, and all the light and shadow and all the joys and sorrows are clear dreams of predecessors. I don't know which autumn is the flower that blooms for me today. Is the love I have been insisting on all my life a story written in a book as early as 1000 years ago?
The mountain finally moved in May, holding me in my arms with infinite tenderness. The moment I longed for finally came, only to find that in his arms, in the depths of the jungle, tung flowers were blooming like brocade.
May 1 1
Is it true that life can only be scattered and withered after a moment of gathering? At the moment of turning around, tung flowers kept falling. The knot tightly tied in my heart slowly loosened, and the mountain was beside me. According to the tide and moonlight, I looked down and thanked him softly for every beautiful day and quiet night. From then on, I only remember that under the snow-white flower shadow, there is a road that won't let you come to an end. There is all the happiness in the world that comes late, but you insist on ending it in a hurry.
May 15
Tung flowers are all gone, and there is still a soft sound of falling flowers in the forest. Back to the long road, I don't know who to prove this sadness to.
Surrounded by infinite silence and indifference, every tree retreated to its original corner. I looked back at Yiyi and looked at him. The peak has passed. If I keep walking, it should be a smooth road, no attachments, right? The mountains were silent and refused to answer me again. In the twilight, they seem to forget how naive and pitiful the mountain was when it was in bloom.
I had to go back and wait for the time to pass, hoping to forget all this like him. However, why can I still hear the sound of tung flowers falling in the deserted forest in the dark night? Why? Flowers are gone, and there is still the sound of flowers falling in my heart.
After all the flowers have fallen, there is still the sound of flowers falling in my heart, one by one, gently falling on the barren mountain.