Rose

QQ:1281016977 time has been stranded for a long time, and I live a miserable life. The swallowtail of March cut the years into two halves. Half is waiting, and the other half is waiting. Just like this rose, quietly dormant, looking forward to the first Thunder of summer. After the Thunder, it spits out its fragrance and let out a season of life. However, all this is quiet, how many people know it? Over the past three years, that Rose has always stood alone, passing through spring, summer, autumn and winter, experiencing cold and hot summer. Normally, everyone would forget its existence. The bald Qiu branch recorded the changes of years and years. The dead leaves turned into soil carried too many hardships and witnessed many joys and sorrows. However, Xia Lei bursts. When it comes to its initial appearance, everyone’s eyes will shine: Hey, there is a rose flower here! Art students pick up the brush to depict its appearance, photography lovers use high technology to shoot its appearance, lovers regard it as the witness of love, and girlfriends use it to tell the flowers of friendship bloom all over the summer. The secluded place was bustling, and the people accompanying it were increasing day by day. However, it was still quiet, never showing the mountain and dew, never boasting. I don’t know how to distinguish rose, rose and rose all the time. I only know that there are countless people praising Rose, and Rose is also regarded as city flower, but this rose is always unknown, it is used as the vegetation to beautify the city appearance like parthenocchio. Maybe this is enough. The value of its existence is to divide the book and stick to your position. It is the most interesting thing to see that flowering rose on rainy days! Stepping on the winding path paved by the rain stones, holding an umbrella, looking at it from a distance, there is a great shore of towering pine trees; Looking closer, I saw a bunch of pink flowers, among the layers of petals, Dew crumbling. Sniffing, there is no pungent smell of heavy makeup, and it is not as dull as water. There is only a sense of elegance, simplicity and nature, which is a kind of pure without carving. And all this is quiet. It seemed that it had already kept itself out of the matter, and had already forgotten that it was also a traveller born between the heaven and the earth; It seemed that it had already been detached and had already seen through the noise of the world and the disturbance of the world of mortals. It escapes from all this and keeps away from all this. In a water-like attitude, reply to your true nature, and resolve all creatures with inaction. How many mountains, rivers, roaring east; How many forests, seas, green plains, waves. All show their own existence. It may be the most real portrayal of this rose when it is lying in the night and listening to the wind and rain. It keeps its own peach blossom garden silently, and there are severe reprimands and ruthless attacks on many roads. However, it, then I chose to meet my truest self. Maybe the most beautiful thing is to meet my truest self. It wiped tears from the corners of his eyes and said. Everything is floating like a dream, and in a trance, all living beings are relieved. Why is there no wrong step when the sunset and the moon rise? Ask Hongmeng who opens up for love? Ask who did it for me in the previous life? Where does a wisp of smoke drift behind me? Why do you live and die at all? I asked all living beings that they still couldn’t see you when they met so many people? Lingering between the round trip, everything is dust after all. Maybe it was waiting until despair. I had seen that Rose was breeding its buds in early winter; Maybe it was not reconciled. It broke through the limit of life and death and went through the cycle of four seasons, it is to wait for people who understand it. Therefore, summer flowers are released in winter. Search, search, fall to the ground after wind and rain. The blooming time is only a few months, maybe everything is too late, maybe a few months seems too long. Who knows! All I know is that rose flowers bloom quietly, so quiet that they don’t disturb others, and so quiet that they put themselves in silence. Light ink wrote down in the early morning of May 27th like (prose editor: Ink drops into wounds) the snow in spring

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