Joke about the wind and moon, laugh and see the floating and sinking

"Floating Wind and Moon, Love Everywhere" | text: Mr. Makino

"Crowded tide, leaves without a trace"

/01/

Twilight, forgetting one's feelings, shallow stepping on the grass between the trees, the sunset afterglow seeping into the heart, a little wind and moon, stop and stare. The picture in the mind is light and vivid...

The geese pass the long sky, the wind and shadows whistle, the sky is high and the earth is wide, there are birds chirping, the pine waves are whistling, and the fragrance of wildflowers, soil, trees, and grass is fragrant. Mysterious images appeared in my head, and it turned out that all this was just a dream.

Have you ever remembered that the years of passing water are like resentment, like poetry, like songs, like weeping like complaints. Remembering the old dreams of yesterday, everything in the past swayed the tip of the heart, and there was nowhere to hide. In an instant, the soul was hollowed out. During the banquet, a few pieces of the wind of the words drifted in, smearing the thoughts on the heart, and the affection was entangled, and the pity lingered for a long time.

Landing to send eyes, flowing golden years, crowded literary tide, leaves fall without a trace. The dark sand of time, the reef of life, quietly outline a strange and rugged picture, in the pile of crowded hieroglyphs, staggered with old things, like a painting, like an old wine, like an old song, faintly ethereal, vaguely swirling, charming, intriguing!

Have you remembered, missed like a flower, longed for a poem Shaohua. Now, touching the feelings of song, when I was young and crazy, in the shallow layer of love like a frenzy, I set off the mysterious and colorful flower of love, which was gorgeous and colorful, enchanting and charming, so that people could not be calm for a long time.

The beautiful writing woman in that plot, she uses love, wisdom, and soul to weave pure love, colorful life, and secret spiritual world into beautiful dreams, and she is also enriching the blood and flesh of your and my emotional literature. How can this not be admired, how can it not be reverie, and even associate with the perfect masterpiece of life between you and me!

/02/

The stream shines on the water, the moon falls between the pines, the floating years, and the fingers are flowing. Mu Ran waved his hand, the four wild firmaments, the heart was quiet, and the little bits and pieces of love were like that. Falling into the tunnel of time, I have forgotten the quiet flowers and cold of last night, the wind and wind, the single person to pick up a pot of good wine, squander feelings, and drink the wind and moon. That night, the wind blew away the mood, counting the sadness on the ground, deep eyes, long and short sentences of death, inches of tears, curved and twisted.

Look at that! The blue sky with the clouds flowing and full of emotions is already the autumn of this year. The leaves of the sycamore of acacia still climbed up the moss of your memory on time, and quietly flew into my delicate emotional world, swinging away a piece of poetry. At this moment, the almost dry heart field, with that almost weathered mysterious love, turned into a rain of acacia. I, who has a deep look of affection, seems to have been smoked by the ten thousand styles of writing women in the plot, and the thoughts in the sky are like snowflakes flying in the sky, the affection is long, and the heart is full of competition.

Sad, can't stop, cut constantly, rationalize is still messy. Who are you waiting for, who are alone, who have built castles at a distance, who are drunk and hurt; who are you looking at from afar, who has the world, but can't find the back that is still familiar.

And now, the deep love that God has locked in should be flat. Looking at the waves as flat as a mirror, the water is rich and grassy; watching the fish and herons flying, the shrimp leaping crab line; the ancient road on both sides of the strait, the green and endless, the bamboo hedge farmhouse, forget the feelings, idyllic.

In fact, some things, once engraved, are indelible, even if they are covered with the ashes of time, but it is still hidden under the ashes, inseparable. Suddenly, that unforgettable encounter forged the eternity of happiness in life. Just like the love of that night, blown in the wind, the memory is in the heart, forever and forever falling into the deepest part of the soul to treasure, do not want to open it again.

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author

Pen name: Mr. Makino, half-flower blossom into a scene, half-flower into a poem, it will leave the obscurity to the past, but make the winter scattered, the galaxy long bright.

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