If life is a long journey in the red dust, then everyone is a scenery in the journey; Love is the transit station in the journey, then the family is the warmest harbor in the transit station.
Sometimes there is a storm during the journey, and the of love will be blown down by the wind and rain, and the harbor will become a swamp or a deep pool that cannot be walked.
Looking up, a leaf of red sails on the way forward, I recombined the memories pieced together with the pain and sent them to my future self.
How many times have I used my slender fingers to write about the vicissitudes of the past, and sprinkled the long four seasons with the vast pattern.
Pulling out romantic feelings, covering the tears of a heart, all the scars, running down the fingertips away from shadows and attachments, faith surrounds me, so that the heart ripples layer by layer. Spreading in the past of reincarnation, the vastness of those simple and confused reverberates in the confused earthly world.
Time has passed, life has taught me to be strong, and setbacks have taught me to set sail.
Did you know that behind a small town, there is a pair of winged birds that are braving the wind and rain. Spread your wings and fly.
Those passionate eyes! No longer remember the past, let the past be like smoke. As a reborn me, I am no longer entangled in the reality that does not belong to me.
The future tells me to actually live because I have a lot to do. Although life is a process of walking alone, then I am not a trekker in this process, falling asleep in the wind and moon, and waking up in countless wanderings.
I have cried for life, and I have laughed for happiness, but after crying and laughing, I have to work hard to live.
A piece of paper tossing and turning, half a curtain of old dreams swirling, how many times a person, in this lament, looking for those lost wounds and the helplessness left behind after the pain.
In life, some people meet but can't keep each other; some love, keep each other, but can't treat each other sincerely; some love, pay but rush to rub shoulders.
In this age of emotional hustle and bustle, I need to find a pure land that nourishes my rusty soul and houses my weary mind.
A small courtyard, a café, or a caravanserai where no one has ever stopped; a sentence, a poem, a diary, can be the final destination of my soul.
Looking back on the road traveled in half a lifetime, there are ups and downs, twists and turns, wind and rain, sunshine... Suddenly, it has become a surging river, going through vicissitudes, crisscrossing and crisscrossing, the river flows in the direction of the sea, rubbing shoulders with the years in the look back, in time. Drift away.
Some things are doomed to be unstoppable, like thick clouds that will eventually fall on a light rain, but I have always believed that the rain is the rainbow that is within reach.
Although life has made a big joke with me and made me fall to the bottom of love, I still have poetry and far away.
I don't covet the present, I yearn for the vastness and vastness of the future.
Although I carried overloaded sorrow, I gained new hope from it, give myself a reason to smile! Bounce away the remnants of the wind and dust servants, cover the rifts of the soul, go to the ocean of life, and embrace the happiness that belongs to me.
Looking back, the mountains and rivers are beautiful; the clouds are light and the wind is light; my heart is still the same; youth does not live up to me; I bless freedom, I cheer for the future, I am the best.