Along a long path, I walked to the top of the confused mountain, and the first discovery was also very ordinary, if it were not for the long-standing turmoil in my heart, I would not feel the throbbing contained in the late autumn sun and breeze.
The gentle sun is pouring, the sky is wide blue, the gentle wind is blowing, and the valley is deep and silent. No one told me what was about to happen, but I walked in the mountains, wading through the still yellow grass tips, smelling the smell of green smell, surrounded by a brewing emotion, and my thoughts stirred, just wanting to know what kind of thoughts were contained in the calm peaks and valleys under the transparent sun? A blast of explosions, placed in an uneasy mood, began when the unforeseen peak circuit turned.
On the branches of one color, all the pear blossoms come to the party, the milky way-like flowers treat all the worlds as its riverbed, under the blue sky, there is a drunken fragrance in the flowing and flying rise, the beating light and shadow are dizzying, and the whole person is wrapped in prosperity, only soft surrender and fusion.
To be surrendered to beauty is always to be impressed by beauty first, and in the acceptance of beauty, it is always natural and appropriate, just like the fusion of water and milk, which is the most traceless mutual acceptance and penetration.
Such a beautiful encounter makes me feel déjà vu, but when I search all the memories, I have not found a single bit of it, could it be that I once haunted the pillow of five thousand years ago? Or is the covenant of three thousand years ago fulfilled today? The skirt raised by the breeze is also showing an old story, and the fragrance emanating from the grass roots is also the old plot of the previous story.
The valley surrounded me with affection, and I snuggled infinitely tenderly on its chest, and just when I was drunk and forgot, I suddenly, suddenly, found that the pear blossoms that bloomed with cheers were brilliant on one side and depressed on the other. Snow-like falling flowers white shade the trees. Is everything the same? Must it be withered after it is released? Happiness always comes with hurried steps?
Is it true that the gathering of short lives must be scattered and scattered? Maybe the helplessness of life is here, and maybe the perseverance of life is also here.
I have a lot of respect for the valley where the flowers are falling, the power of growth is unstoppable and changeable, I just want to remember this beautiful feeling, exist in the depths of memory. Just remember that there is a path in the shade of the snow-white trees that cannot reach the end. Many paths in life need to be changed, and sometimes changes are so reluctant, but the change is not your choice.
When the flowers are gone, the branches and trees return to their former blue color, and even the traces of the once prosperous will not be left, making people feel that nothing has happened here.
But do you really forget? Will it really leave no trace? So why do I hear the sound of falling flowers when the night is quiet, when all the sounds are receding behind the night curtain?
Knocking on my heart, it was the sound of falling flowers, and I could hear it.