Meeting a flower is like meeting an old acquaintance in the spring breeze, whether it is closing your eyes and lowering your eyebrows, it is full of joy. Life, if you can spend most of your time doing what you like and care about the person you like, it is not wasted.
Like, in a spring morning, leaning against the window lattice, holding half a warm tea, reading sentences written in the past, reading those happy and unhappy memories, in the tranquillity of the mountains, it is suddenly far and near light and silent, and at that moment, as if, some gradually thin feelings, thick thoughts, dizzy for a moment, in the grass fragrant season, but also according to the time to relive. Once we met in the story of fireworks, through the wind and rain, experienced all kinds of earthly whispers, suddenly a leaf of time gracefully, lost heart, passed away love, however, I still freeze beauty in your eyes, think about it, that is how a prosperous intersection. Buddha said that the cause and effect of this world is to cry, laugh, think about it, forget it, and how to live is a kind of process. Only by being kind to yourself can we walk calmly. If you can count your thoughts and break the mystery of this life, even if the clouds pass through the clear rain, it can certainly bloom into a fragrance between the eyebrows, if you remember, that is the cause and effect of compassion in this life.
Imagine that when the spring breeze blows green on the waterfront, the clear and quiet woman wakes up from the silence of the past, according to the clouds full of sleeves, and the sun is warm, read some poems about writing in the wrinkles of clothes. Those, seem to be the distance between the fingers, perhaps, once like smoke and fire in the smell of a trace, such as willow bank green hair curl of a new dew, such as a drop of crystal on the petals, finally, have followed the dust fate like water. Fleeting time, is a wind and clouds in a hurry, if you understand, that pure heart will not be full of grass, let us go through all the vicissitudes of life, just wait for the apricot blossoms in the misty rain to fragrance again, at the fork of time, and can walk together as promised, on the road full of sunshine.
Years, is a deep thought, walking through the mountains of the wind, holding the corners of spring clothes, warming a pot of old wine, carrying a clear moistening throat, until with a person, a period of time, an empty cup to the right, the mood is like the wind with the rain, with the sorrow with the joy of the old resentment, suddenly bright, suddenly depressed, but also like the turbidity of the wind and moon, bit by bit, overflow from the eyes, flooding the idle worries of April. If, in the face of the overlap of ferocious years and kindness, we can't avoid getting old after all, then why not give ourselves a place of comfort, picking flowers, setting grass, cooking words, making ink, and the gentle affection in the village of time? one day, we will still find the lost footprints, live up to our disappointment, do not alienate, and only low to please the joy of the growth of all things, as well as the beauty of the river.
The poems of time never come from the isolation and forbearance of some temperament, but weave the arc of words with the most beautiful thoughts from the bottom of my heart. Then, in the strangers without scruples flying into a pure language, waves in the sea of heart, decorated with the gorgeous picture of spring, such as the grand meeting of that year. Once promised that no matter how the vicissitudes of life change, no matter how the years turn around, I will let my mind end in the wheat field with you, and then, when I look back, you will follow the breeze of the bridge, in the depths of the white walls and tiles, let me splash out the amazement of time more than once. The world of mortals, even if it is an insurmountable shore, I would like to plant a lotus with a vegetarian heart, with the hope of a lifetime falling into your eyes, such as the earthly wind blowing old pictures, such as thoughts white in the fingers, such as Prajna Bodhi to me, in the quiet, silent as smoke.
Always believe that as long as it is the heart of the feelings will not rub shoulders with their own, even if one day, two people have to be dispersed by time, there will be no regrets, because love, is the longest sentimental attachment. Maybe, the story will run aground, maybe it will be entangled at the annual meeting, but time allows us to meet when the spring flowers are in full bloom, and when the charm of spring falls affectionately into my eyebrows, joy, or sadness, can be held in my hand, such as embroidered on a red brow. Some people say that reading my words in the sun, at the end of her life, is a woman living under her own blue sky, no matter publicity or silence, is the most beautiful scenery. I said, if time is determined to run, do not need to catch up, do not need to have a fulcrum, give me any text script, I can share a theme and picture, that is the melody of love, is the endless warmth in my heart.
Often a person, yearning to go far away, there is no need to carry too heavy luggage, a simple wisp, half warm, even if it is to experience thousands of miles of silence, as long as the heart with expectations, you can have a panoramic view of the scenery along the way. In life, there will always be some people come and go, inadvertently affect the mood, or write in the cloud, or far away in the fog, or hold in the hand, or read in the dream, if you care too much, you will inevitably have a dark heart disease, long-term addiction, there will be no cure. In this world, you can't bear the slightest debt to yourself. The breadth of heaven and earth, the lush of all things, depends on how you understand its meaning, your eyes are not astringent but not crying, your heart is not irritable but not sad, and you listen to the singing of the warblers by the ears of spring, so that your eyebrows are a little new green, warm tea, meditation, just waiting for the strangers to return slowly.
Everyone has some unforgettable memories, such as the raindrops falling on the path of the bluestone in the south of the Yangtze River, with a long sense of tiredness, loneliness, and triviality. That year, what kind of situation, in the text of the landscape met inadvertently you, since then, the mind of a flower, then began to dense fluorine into shy charm, brush sleeves to make plum, hand boiled words, prosperous, sparse hedges, all are yearning for the lush life. Life is an alternation of cold and warm, a condensation of joys and sorrows. I often comb my emotions by myself, moistening my throat with thin water and clearing my heart to study ink. Until many years later, I will still be grateful for a certain encounter, because with the affectionate gift of time, I will be full of expectations and beautiful flowers.
Years, is to twist up the skirt through the wind, after the rain, the last ray of thought began to cool in the eyes, precipitated in the heart, and I only wish, but also according to the quiet time to remember some old sentences, and then, quiet in a quiet corner of the past will be silently reviewed. Perhaps, the distance between the heart and the heart is too long, so the vein of memory has begun to wither and alienate, until the wilderness ownerless mood layer by layer of plucking away, can not find the love you once. The time of the old year is doomed to be an indescribable ashes, only insipid Eclosion, in order to be able to retreat from the chaos rather than water. And the best time in a woman's life is never in everyone's eyes, but in her own heart, keeping a cloud blooming, half an acre of breeze, regardless of the vicissitudes of life, regardless of the vicissitudes of life, regardless of the wind rising and falling, just like the peach blossoms in spring, smiling in the spring breeze, it is also quiet and chic.
Always feel that it takes a lifetime to find an unknown scenery, and some plots, such as dry and wet sentences, are arranged irregularly on top of the cases of the years, and they rush by with time before they have time to sort out. When I turn back, I can't help sighing that the corner that once made people palpitate is sunny, unexpectedly, I have already followed the fate, lost my mind, and dissipated like a misty rain. Perhaps missed, missed the opportunity to shake hands with the most beautiful scenery, so the kind of intimate warmth, destined to have nothing to do with yourself. At some point, I slowly lean my body and mind against the window and comb my mind according to the sun. at the moment when the warmth comes into my eyes, I will suddenly wake up. In the water-like time, we did not lose anything, but more growth experience. The joys and sorrows that grow in our hearts must also teach us that only compassion is the most appropriate cause and effect.
Unwittingly, the spring flowers are light, the wind is shallow, the water is clear, the mountains are old, and the dreams living in words are getting farther and farther away. And the heart in this spring is also empty, waiting for the news of the rain, just let some kind of watch in the cool and thin situation dusty. You said, the weather is impermanent, do not always be sad for no reason, I am still here, that emotion, will be the same as before. In this way, tears will suddenly wet the eyes, as if, is a touch of spring in the light of the fragrance of flowers, in the most beautiful situation was written by me Acacia poems, and you, or my heart can not run aground thousands of thoughts. Come to think of it, fate will not disappoint the affectionate person after all, and will try his best to take good care of the warm sun at the bottom of his heart, even though there are all kinds of gossip in the world, as long as each other's hearts are safe and sound, they will live up to the clouds and waters of the world.
The best time is for two people to talk together, making noise, getting along, playing, growing up, writing about love, wiping tears at the same time, and finally, laughing and mentioning a basket of spring breeze to marry a flower.
Words / flowers are speechless
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