Looking for poetry, prose

Believe in the future: when the cobwebs mercilessly sealed my stove to ashes, I sighed with poverty. I still stubbornly spread the ashes of disappointment and wrote with beautiful snowflakes: Believe in the future. When my purple grapes become dewdrops in late autumn, and when my flowers are nestled in other people's feelings, I still stubbornly write on the desolate land with condensed vines: I believe in the future. I want to wave to the horizon with my finger. Holding the sun in the palm of your hand, the sea swayed with the dawn, and wrote a warm and beautiful stroke with a child's pen: I believe in the future. I firmly believe in the future because I believe in the vision of people in the future. She has eyelashes to push away the dust of history, and she has pupils to see through the chapters of the years. No matter whether people send moving tears, deep sympathy or contemptuous smiles to our rotting bodies, I firmly believe that people will give warm, objective and fair comments on countless explorations, lost ways, failures and successes of our spine. Yes, I am anxiously waiting for their evaluation friends, firmly believe in the future, believe in indomitable efforts, believe in the future and love life.