See the green silk turn white, see the wrinkles deep
2020年4月15日 | by 科姆龙
Full of blood, with a wish, with a spring breeze on the road for ten years, sadness and happiness in the heart of the private wish, history diary write, words on the paper like trifles, words on the paper like life, sigh with emotion, after a while.
What would happen if it were not me? If it is not love, will there be less emotion? If I can do it again, I would like not to meet you at that time, in exchange for not to leave now and in the future. It’s a pity that I am incompetent and unable to ask the sky for more time. As long as we have more time, our minds may be a little less. When we really hate each other, we will say sorry again. Instead of looking at the sky helplessly like the remaining love now, my missing floats in the air just because of you, and the words in the air become a mystery that I can never solve in my life, helpless whispers can not be expressed. In the silent path, the echo of the past twines the heart, and the lingering sound twines the ear.
I can’t understand the spring breeze for ten years, I can’t understand the autumn breeze for ten years, and I don’t know my mind about winter and summer, just like what I have experienced. Had flowers leafy colorful into confidant, encountered another North feng ling ganlie snow million Flower Writing White. This is the usual time, and it goes from time to time. As usual, I see the green silk turning white and see the wrinkles deep.
It is a Arabian nights between me and fate, but I don’t know whether I am a chess player, a walking soldier, or both. Whether I win or lose, I am just a person who likes playing chess. I don’t care about the fate of his life. I am just the one who likes to fight with fate.
If you don’t look at yesterday’s scenery, how can you feel today. Time on the road of life is too urgent, and it will pass by by accident. It seems that we always leave our feelings to the most infatuated person and the story to the person who always wants to start over, infatuation infatuation is late to know, and story is late to understand. At See past flower, wind and rain as Tianya, butterfly flower painting poetic, signed blank no you and me.
Who can write big words, judge the outline of fate, but also 1,000 words, convince the choice. The more the past is described, the lighter it is. The more it is written, the lighter it is. The feeling of being woken up by the wind is the exhortation at dusk, the fireflies in the night. The only thing I wanted to do was to grab my hand. What I tried my best to clench was only the fist. There was nothing but the air that I could not get through, which made people feel powerless. The helpless feeling was so dignified.
After drinking the wine brewed at dusk, I drank 999 at 1,000, but only one cup was missing. The night and the lonely wolf were friends, and they all became friends looking up at the starry sky, looking at the Firefly flying far away, the farther you fly, the higher you become, the bigger you become the moon in your heart. You know its cloudy and sunny, but the real moon hanging in the sky doesn’t know your joys and sorrows. Home nobody accompanies, only a lamp as usual night, warm just a cabin, night dare heart. It tells a story that you know me best. I tell a story that you don’t understand me. The process of heart is carved like a monument. It is love, hate, regret and pain.
The old man selling cotton candy on the street of the night market was still there. I bought another memory and tasted it. Today’s taste is not as sweet as that at that time. The old man smiled and said, “Young man, go well, welcome to come again next time.”. “Come again next time” is like a spell, and next time, I will come again, I will definitely come.
Next time, when is it? Again, what does it mean?
At this time, how I wish that the old man would still be there next time I come, and I could have a bite of cotton candy. The slight sweet taste, because someone is not there, makes me taste every detail in my memory. I can’t keep people and feel that I can’t keep people. It’s really not that the old man’s skill is not as good as before, it’s just the past when I was numb.
The steps are not urgent, and the walk is not fast. Looking back at the street, it is already behind. When strangers become forever new words, you must be ready to describe them when you are familiar with them. The facts and the past, unfamiliar, will know, familiar, will disappear.
The same years, the same road, the youth with a clear personality were seen clearly when we grew up. We saw the fallen leaves flying under the tree in autumn together, which made us harvest different things, the leaf in the book is just a personal treasure. There are so many leaves left, and there are many people who treasure the leaves. It seems that the leaves are similar, but they can’t find two identical leaves at all. Some are chasing the autumn wind, while some are waiting for the autumn wind to come, we know each other every year, and we are similar every year. We are both guilty and heartless.
Who will hang the long love in the sky, then teach the world to write void. Along the way, how to go? It is good. Too many sincere people’s blessings, too far away, is the ruthless Road, flowers always meet good season, pick flowers to meet me, flowers always fall together with the story collection, enjoy flowers and watch the drama. This flower doesn’t belong to me, it only belongs to that season. The withered flower left in my hand once met the flowering period and said that Buddha “how can we meet if we don’t owe each other”.
If there is a fate, how can I seek relief from the Buddha? I met my master who swept the fallen leaves in the yard, smiled and said that he was crazy, and also met a child who asked if tomorrow was really so far away. Pedestrians are like passengers in dreams. It is me on the way. I see passers-by are like lights of Changming. Everyone is me. Too stupid, it is the bitterness in my smile, too want to know, I don’t know my tomorrow.
There are too many people who are infatuated with each other, and they are too far away from each other. They can only carry the wind and rain alone. If they want to get out of one’s world, they have to face the whole world. Now the blood is warm, and there is a cool breeze when reading books, life is really true in front of you. You can’t see it in your eyes or hear it in your ears. You feel it is a false capture in your heart.