The dream is fleeting, paving a bustling scene

Fireworks are thin, fleeting, and no more beautiful than clouds. It is like looking for the beauty of a lifetime, but it is only a moment, and when it is gone, it can never be recovered. What is the hundred years in this world, floating like a dream, unconsciously people have gone to the empty building, where do the flowing years pass away in the form of flowing water and flowers?

Following a sigh, a wisp of piano sound, or the haze of a tea smoke, the years of disillusionment are without a trace, just like the flow of fireworks, scattered into smoke and dust in an instant. Such a prosperous and desolate dust dream, in the middle of several turns in the night, withered without leaving a trace.

The fireworks are broken, the Slovaks are dead, and the heart is cool. Sauvignon Blanc and Sauvignon Blanc, after all, can never be kept together.

A life rushes by in vain, the years are merciless, and the red face is easy to grow old. Sandalwood paintings are remnants, midnight dreams are returned, what kind of pain tore the heart apart, little by little, let the cold as ice wind blow away the last trace of tenderness left in the heart.

The moment Yin Red and warm blood stained the fingertips red, the cold and piercing tears cruelly tore the heart into pieces, and it turned out that the pain was so painful that even breathing would hurt.

Birth and death. From now on, if there is a goodbye in the next life, Jun is a strange young man, and the concubine is a white hair and red makeup.

In the end, even if they don't know each other.

The world changes, the vicissitudes of the sea have become a mulberry field in the blink of an eye, and the moment or forever is just a moment when a promise melts with the wind and dust.

Even on the day when the illusion must be disillusioned, the dream woke up, and there was only a pillow of tears left. There are so many separations in a lifetime, and some people, as soon as they turn around, are separated by a blue and yellow spring, and they will never see each other again.

After watching a fireworks curtain, I understand that the mutilated original is also another kind of perfection. Just like the floating life, as long as it does not live up to this life, why should we care about the desolation after prosperity?

Life is like a dream or a drama, no matter how gorgeous the appearance, no matter how noisy the appearance, can not escape the fate of the end of the curtain. You and I are immersed in this splendid red dust, looking at the scenery that many people have seen, being the most lingering passer-by, gradually withering away, gradually aging.

At that time, the sunlight sprinkled a shattered light and shadow through the gaps in the leaves, only a few faint wisps of drifting clouds rolled in the sky, the sky was translucent light blue, there was no night, no fireworks, only a nearly lonely silence after a rain.

July, the season of rain. I have always believed that every drop of rain that falls between the flowers is a tear shed for each other in a previous life. The memories of the previous dust turned into rain, fell among the flowers, blossomed into a beautiful purple and red, whispering softly, it turned out that you were also here, waiting for my tears, wetting your eyes.

A thin coolness that opens up a clear face between your fingers. The years have gone so mercilessly, but the past that has not gone away is entangled in the heart, and it is impossible to let go after all. Maybe there should always be a moment in your life, forget yourself, forget the chaotic past in the floating life, this is the real pure heart.

Forget about the floating life, look at the red dust lightly, be pure in heart, and live up to the golden year. It is better to make a firework, and use the best years to pave a prosperous world, even if the bloom of the moment burns out the splendor of the rest of the life, it is enough.

-Author-

Pen name: Mu Chuyan. Words are spiritual, they can read the deepest thoughts in your heart. Words have feelings, and it is willing to dance with you about the prosperity and loneliness of the world. Once in life, the words are thousands of autumns, and it will eventually become entangled with us and enter the cycle of reincarnation.

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