New Poem Original: Stone (Outer One)

Originally

I thought I was a stone. Later this stone

It was warmed up by spring

But it's still a stone.

Right now

The stones blossomed. What is open is the kind that does not wither

flower

In my opinion

It's not easy.

Be as skilled as a goldsmith with skilled craftsmanship

Rule a piece of gold. Regardless of craftsmanship, technique

Regardless of the selling appearance. It's all about ingenuity

Both must have potential collectible value. Like I'm in the dark

Carefully polish your forehead, collarbone up to your ankles. Strength

Not like a hammer

Like the wind, blowing through a pile of cotton wool. And I'm behind your saddle

Never be king. Always be just a little person

For you

Quiet fanning the flames.

Author: The Sea of White Sails