Ginkgo: Eternity and Loneliness
Author: Wind And Snow
Downstairs in my house, there is a street lined with rows of ginkgo trees on both sides. It was already winter, and the north wind from the wilderness blew its leaves yellow, withered its stems, and the leaves were like butterflies, falling a golden rain.
In the distance, it is full of gold and fullness. Such a bright tone, even in the depths of winter, when everything is withering, always makes people happy and bright. In the memory of our bloodline, such a bright golden yellow is always inseparable from harvest and joy.
I enjoy walking on the road covered with ginkgo biloba leaves. A person walks silently, listening to the sound of the wind whistling in the ears, listening to the whispers of the leaves, gently closing his eyes, and his heart seems to flow out of a faint melody. The moon is bright, the silk bamboo fragrance is gentle, it is like walking in the long river of years, soft and quiet.
The branches of the ginkgo tree are straight and vigorous. It stands here, just like it has crossed the glacier, shuttled through the wilderness, and witnessed the rise and fall of countless lives; the old life has disappeared, the new life has been born, and it remains unchanged, spring and summer, autumn and winter.
I stood here, staring at him, speechless for a long time. Maybe it's also staring at me, watching my past, my present, and the future that's about to happen. Watch me go from immature to green onion, from green onion to maturity, from maturity to old age. Maybe one day, I will be old and my sideburns will be gray, but it will still be tough and leafy after the spring breeze; until the end of autumn and winter, it will still be like this, golden, joyful tone.
We can never compare with ginkgo biloba; it is a living fossil from the Ice Age, with a slow growth cycle and endless life. To it, I am only a passer-by who has glanced at it in its long life, perhaps in just a few decades of spring and autumn, but dozens of degrees of leaf growth and leaf fall; it has returned to dust and loneliness.
What time has left on it is the ring of years, the symbol of fate, the testimony of a long time, the glory and pride of life; what remains on me is to meet step by step, to leave step by step, to pass by step by step, and to disappear step by step.
Ginkgo biloba lives longer than I do, but I think... I may be able to live brighter and brighter than that. Because it has stood unchanged for thousands of years, looking at the mountains and seas that have changed after a long time, I can leave here, cross the mountains and mountains, go to see the sunset on the other side of the river, to see the stars and bright moons above the wilderness; it uses thousands of years of loneliness to see the world clearly, but I can use decades of years to taste and experience in laughter.
At this moment, winter is deep and lonely, and everything is lonely. The occasional whistle in the distance was long, but it could not hide the silence of the place. I walked down the long street covered with ginkgo biloba leaves, listening to the wind whispering in my ears.
Ginkgo danced in the cold wind, embracing its eternal loneliness; I ran wild in the cold wind to embrace my fleeting joy. There is no right or wrong, high or low, but I am on a very different path from it.
That's all, nothing to do with joy or sorrow.