Floating life is like a dream, a hundred generations of passers-by also, come and go in a hurry, in the end is also a moment. Accustomed to the heavy makeup of running water time, quietly across the lonely sky, the heart is endless calm. The past, such as smoke, dissipated in wisps of breeze and went far away. If the heart is unwilling, must carefully chew aftertaste, afraid also have to be unwilling to eat, and finally full of exhaustion. Just, everything is just running water and falling flowers, heaven and earth.
Used to wear fragrant sideburns, wading thousands of miles, just to find a world hangover. Distant landscape, no matter how good, but also a little bit less human warmth. Sometimes, a few traces of homesickness win over countless people. I know that I am just a migratory bird to the south, still shake off the wind and dust after spring return, and fly to the long sky of my hometown without hesitation.
The south is prosperous, and even tears are extravagant. So I hid the wealth in the glands of my eyes, the luxury was theirs, and I had nothing. Shuttling through the busy traffic, indifferent to the crowd in suits and suits.
When you fall in love with the years, it is very easy to waste your time and get drunk. Time unveils the mystery, but it is like a beautiful woman with a delicate face, fresh and elegant, unique and independent. Along the way, I had an affair with time and cleaned up the heartstrings of the dust. The dark pasture, which once thought it was impassable, has long been lit up by the stars, as bright as fire. The sky is unique and clear. I really want to keep such a day until I get old.
When the fragrance fades, the color fades, and all the passion is gone, that is enough to last forever. Perhaps only the prosperous experience, the dream has become empty, that serenity will burst out from the bone. People who are fascinated by desire always die in the heart of the Yellow River. Then there is an epiphany, and the success or failure of right and wrong is empty.
Professor Kui Bo said that we seem to have experienced thousands of mountains and rivers, only to find that we are still standing in the same place, but the years have passed by us. Yes, isn't life a reincarnation of time? Spring will come, flowers will blossom, the ancient truth, always unpopular, like too familiar people, the more likely to be ignored.
This has been going on for years, and the dream is fascinated. A dusty heart, has experienced ups and downs, and finally entered a dull fleeting time. Inadvertently found that the original years is a simple and elegant flower, will also grow old in the wind and dust, forever young is always a pear blossom like a snow heart. Twilight years are just the vicissitudes of appearance, who can take away a tranquil state of mind?
Time, turn around. Too many encounters, it turns out that only narrow paths meet, will eventually be parted at some broad intersection. Since it has been decided for a long time, I do not have to worry about the lost years. Your beautiful years, I am always difficult to set foot in, then let the story of the world, help me forget the face I once missed. The vast sea of people, thousands of things, we just need to walk slowly. At the end of the road, there are beautiful landscapes and bodhi flowers blooming. Cut a period of elegance, listen to the swaying mood, and a ray of ink fragrance, dye the water of the years. Meet poetically in front and meet with roses in the rear. Dance with long sleeves, wave the clouds and smile into flowers.
Tidy up the mood, take a brisk step, those days riddled with holes, are the flash of falling flowers, may you and my good mood open a cloud on the horizon.
Author: Annie still QQ1156391287
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