"Born like a speck of dust" | text: Rong'er
"I'm like dust, but I can't dream of being born."
/01/
A dandelion seed bloomed quietly on the side of the road, quiet and peaceful under the sunlight, plucked one and put it in my hand before I had time to look closely, it drifted away with the wind, watching the dandelions floating in the air gradually disappear from sight, and then look at the plants growing on the purple field, thinking that they will disappear from my sight in the near future, and the feeling of being born like dust will rush into my heart.
Many times, I am confused. I have always felt that there are countless myself scattered in this world, I am divided by time at different points in time, and each different self is vividly running in my memory, so many of myself are like a speck of dust, wandering in the time tunnel of memory, unable to find my coordinate points, lost, involuntarily floating, vicissitudes.
God is sometimes unfair, like me, a woman who has no "talent" and no "appearance", but let me generate a flower reflecting the water on the side of the road, if it is only a nameless flower without thought, it is not counted, but it gives me the idleness of the red dust woman.
/02/
That idleness is like a wisp of light smoke, dragging my mind and soul, roaming in a person's world, provoking the loneliness of dusk, provoking the light sorrow of smoke, if it is just idleness, because I have long understood the saying that life between the vast heavens and the earth is like floating dust, if I really understand it, I will not be entangled, then I can blossom my butterflies, the rain comes to me to bathe and dance, and it is also a happy thing to have this short and long life in the casual world.
However, a mediocre woman like me, her understanding has not yet reached the realm of seeing mountains are mountains, seeing water is water, seeing mountains is not mountains, seeing water is not water, and cannot do a dashing dust into the world. In the flow of time, in the face of an ethereal feeling in this vast sea of people, no matter how determined you want to stick to it, you feel like a speck of dust, unable to influence your own will and destiny. In the unsurpassable fate, no one will notice the smallness of a speck of dust, and no one will pay attention to the mood of a speck of dust.
Time is rising, the four seasons are passing through the old face, the shadow between the purple and strange flowers, crisscrossing the bottom of the heart, will always let the heart fall on the helplessness that is difficult to say, who will know that the hardship of a grain of dust lies in having a soul and a thought, as well as the illusory dream born of thought, if you let this dream that is like a cloud and a distant dream is entangled in your own spiritual world, it will make too many tears on the emotional load of this world; it will let your limited life carry too much powerlessness.
I am like a speck of dust, but I will not dance with the wind, I am like a speck of dust, but I can't dream of being born, in this noisy world, in this small town where coal dust rolls in a foreign land, if I am a grain of dust, who will use my heart to guard the loneliness that belongs to me, and I will be covered in whose eyes, swaying in the red dust.
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author
Pen name: Rong'er. The past is always the past, time passes inadvertently, and what is passed away eventually becomes the past. We will yearn for the past, we will regret it, but only if we laugh and throw years, the future days will become better.
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