The wind is a sleepless bird.
It was the wind that connected the whole night. From one tree to another, from one flower to another, from one drop of dew to another, from one dream to another. Fengshen dumped these winged birds flying around with huge pockets.
That night, only the wind passed by, gathering and gathering, and dispersing and dispersing. It comes and goes at will, and no one knows why. When it gathers, it is a moody tyrant. In an instant, it rotates scattered leaves or crop straws in mid-air to form a conical vortex. With a loud noise, it spins fast, runs wildly, runs across ditches and hurdles, and has no direction, just like walking on the ground. Lying in bed, my body is soaked like dark water, and the wind and darkness make people uncomfortable. I heard the wind stroking my soul and dreams on the roof, and then watched it slowly squeeze in through the cracks in the doors and windows like a thin, pointed piece of metal, trying to plot evil against me. It shouted and ran all night without a trace of fatigue. Those quiet branches and haystacks groan or shout under its arrogance. I was groggy in this atmosphere all night. I feel that it has stripped itself, torn it and shattered it. It didn't escape in the dark until dawn.
No matter how strong the wind was, it moved me after all. It seems to be trying to awaken something, like those masters who keep exploring human secrets. It puts flowers in the cradle all night and drives birds to heaven all night. Where love has not died, its long hair has become a moving banner at night. It makes me believe that in a place deeper than night, there must be eyes darker than the wind, a hoarse throat than the wind, and heavier steps than chess pieces, staring, singing and walking.
I believe that every star has an unspeakable melody, and every stone has a beautiful and sad story. Like the wind, I am a bird that doesn't sleep. I can dance in the cracks and can't bear to miss it in the depression.
I am a sleepy person, but tonight, like the wind, I am a sleepless bird. The fragrance of nature blends into a special smell, and all kinds of bird songs are the sounds of nature without human command, which makes me drunk as soon as I open the window at night.
Legend has it that there is a kind of bird without feet. They can only fly all the time and sleep in the wind when they are tired. They only fall once in their lives, that is, when they die. This is the posture I chose tonight: persistence. Persistence gradually makes me a wind and a banner of victory.
I can't bear to sleep. I am a sleepless bird. I want to wake up those beautiful things with the wind and accompany me to flow endlessly. If poverty buried me, I could not help singing. If gossip drains me dry, I will wait until the flowers bloom. I am not the first person to come into this world, but I am the last person to leave this world. I cherish all this, including the night and the abyss.
This is a night that needs to be exchanged with dreams. When the flame in my chest is about to wither, I selflessly surrender my dream and call back a quiet night with only wind. I gave up sleep and dreams hanging on my pillow. I made a promise to my heart to give it freedom and peace. Although I am poor, I must always listen to the wind. Although I am weak, I must be strong every minute.
The wind sings at night, and the wind divides the whole night into two halves from scratch. The first half is the lake of memory, and the second half is the ocean of imagination.
The moon is cool and cool. On that brighter night, I saw two other birds who didn't sleep like me. One just walked through the wasteland, and the other sat on a stone, full of disappointment. One cave and the other are far away, and they try to wake up the sleeping world. In Coetzee's eyes, life is constantly "building mountains with mud dug by moles". It asks its soul, "Everyone else has given in to life. Why not? " ? Why not? "Coetzee insisted, looking for the thoughts that shine on people's hearts in the dark. Lu Yao always starts at noon in the morning, because he wants to talk to people in the ordinary world at night, and he wants to avoid the blow of hard life at night. They made me believe that the world is beautiful and there is always a lantern hanging in people's hearts.
I'll start crossing from tonight, from the surface of my mind. My body is an empty raft. I went through and left my wet shoes here. It implies that I will still sing on the road, spread my wings of freedom, stay in the dark night, be a sleepless bird like the wind.