In this world, we are all born of love, without love, it is not impossible to live, but with love, we will live a more warm and wonderful life.
Always like, in the four distinct seasons of the scenery, looking for a warmth and romance, in every light night, quietly watching the time of tea fragrance, I know, when the fragrance of youth, skip my eyes like autumn water, for many years, in the season of pure water, I will pour out all the words for the flow of life.
In the world of mortals and the polishing of the years, what we read is still the same beauty. Looking back, our lives flow with the years and grow old with the white hair. However, we intentionally or unintentionally snoop on the changing time, the distant end, those warm and untouchable shadows, in the neon light singing, love is reincarnation.
Outside the window, the first rain of spring drips down gradually, dripping into a melodious clear song through the window lattice. I am dense in this tide of life. I run aground gently and go into the curtain with the rain line. Then, I hold a finger of vegetarian thoughts and buckle down the thoughts like flowers.
Perhaps, is the day leisure, the heart, just has a lot of space, leaves the thought! At the moment, listening to the sound of rain outside the curtain, I smell all the breath and the taste of spring, the intoxication that ripples over the vast expanse of heaven and earth, even though all the landscapes are still full of rope, but, the quiet dream of the first season, no one can bind it.
I do not know who said, in the world, only nostalgia, but forever. Yes, no longer than fleeting time, but short fingertips, I always understand that there are some roads that can only be walked alone. On the world of mortals, those who invite colleagues will eventually be separated at some ferry one day.
Often, miss those naive, those pure childhood, no trouble, foolishly believe in fairy tales, but, until now found, snuggled up to the earthly field Qinghuan, and then look back on those young times, often feel in the years away, or lost in their own wasted time.
Show a piece of ink fragrance, listen to a window breeze, the rhythm of words, like a chic scenery blooming. In fact, keep these warm words, I can not remember clearly, this world engraved leisurely chanting, shallow singing, in the end how many words have been written as warm as honey? Only know, a heart inkstone out of the rhyme of ink, you come for me, bathed in the warm spring breeze, so, with a light attitude blooming in the corner of my words, brushing lingering, around missing, that collection of an eternal, I think, if, thousands of years later, the years play above the song, fireworks still love, falling flowers still love, even if it is pain, it must be perfect.
Along the faint thoughts, often ask yourself, whether or not? Can a cup of coffee replace all the bitterness in your heart? So, in the fleeting years, my joy, why, is not so happy as I imagined? In the world of mortals, spring to autumn, all the time, every season has thoughts, every season has memories, and along the rustle and fall of the pen inkstone, a true, a warm, but the drifting time is cut into brocade pieces, sorrow and sweetness, half of you, half of me.
Standing in front of the window, across the hazy sky, looking at the crowd drifting away, I suddenly found that the years had passed another ring. Perhaps, through the journey I have seen, I let time go by and grow out of something unwarranted. Most of the time, I feel sorry for myself, even if those unpretentious obsession have been diluted by time and there is not much left.
I know that for a long time, even if there is no chance for reincarnation for a hundred years, it is only a cold person in the world of mortals. Those stories that are not perfect are like writing without purpose and walking without purpose, and they will not be forgiven by time.
In the shallow chanting, time has been getting old, suddenly turned around, just like an old movie, sitting in memories, silent black and white. Perhaps, we run around in the years of time, today, are indispensable experiences in life, that finalized journey, even if on this road lonely or sad melancholy, but ultimately we can not choose.
Sometimes, standing in the crowded flow of people, thinking, maybe one day, like many people, we will leave, for example, the numerous world, their own family, friendship, and love, that's all.
It seems that for a long time, the words crawled out line by line are all lonely. Think about it, over the years, they want to remember a lot of moments, in fact, have been forgotten a lot of moments. Every midnight, when I feel the panic of time slipping through my fingers, I want to say, are you all right? There is no regret, only concern.
Once, I said, like, just a moment to see each other waving, suddenly turned, full of sadness; you said, like, is to pick up the meeting, even if, separated, can also drip with constant reading. At the moment, the thoughts that take the present as the song, the water ripples, but I am like a passer-by, coldly looking at my chaotic thoughts, bowing my head, and these chaotic words on my fingertips that do not know what is wrong, they also seem to be using a kind of unknown confusion, with a look of despair, succumbing to the rings of time.
Looking back, the years are thin, just thickening my lingering memory, in order to lock the love of my life, my pen, imbued with a touch of inkstone fragrance, whispers softly in every quiet night. Perhaps, in our life, love, sometimes such as flowers blossom, we try our best to bloom once in our life, that is, so beautiful, but so short.
Close my eyes, I taste those gains and losses in the past, do not know? If I could go back in time, would I still choose to know you? Will you still believe that such a day must be incomparably memorable?
Pick up pens, inkstone characters, the past, Qingmeng is also happy, and finally floated away. A fireworks, a season, now, please allow me to think of it lightly, allow me, a plain year, and then I will chant the most beautiful last song of life, across the floating desolation, quietly guarding the world of mortals in the murmur. Clear song all the way, lock love for a lifetime, dance forever, from then on, do not expect.
Author: Qianluoyin red makeup
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