To word

The Flying Flowers in the dream are different, and a cup of Zen tea comforts the whole life. Some words and sentences are not filled with ink, but are taken in my arms. A period of life is not to please others’ eyes, but to perform a monologue belonging to oneself. The leading role is not that important, but the mentality when playing. Process, or cry or laugh, get and own sometimes only between one thought. Inscription time in writing can be lightly loved and loved, and can be lightly written. A wandering heart is cleaned by a note of white, even if it has been broken, after thousands of sails have been gone, the honor and disgrace will never be surprised, but I will always be intoxicated in the silent annual rings by accident. I suddenly realize that everything in the vast world can be so small that they disappear, no one mentions it and will die in the deep sea city. Take the words as warm, comfort me duckweed wandering for half a life, feel lost fleeting time, walk alone, wait for the fate of life, time wet the promise, then my heart has been idle. The wind is clear and the clouds are light. In such an afternoon, make a cup of tea and watch the Green Tea rolling in the clear boiled water. At this moment, the air is quiet, I am quiet, only the branches and leaves on the tree outside the window were shaking. Sitting upright, speechless, looking for the secret of the mind in the time of a cup of tea, there is a long thread, someone will always hide in the bottom of my heart, open the title page of memory, a trace of shadow came into my eyes, A piece of warmth gives off a touch of fragrance. Time has not stopped, and I have not grown old. I read you in my heart gracefully while this cup of tea has not cooled down. After all, I can’t sit in a city and look at myself clearly. The warmth of my fingertips is still lingering with the story of words. The call of Hyacinth still continues in the distance. In the wind, the hyacinth strings are woven one after another with transparency. If it is touched carelessly, a shallow song of chanting will ring. Sometimes I wonder what kind of life-and-death encounter it would be like in this flowing year like water. I will play all my joys and sorrows in a period of life, and I will never forget it for the rest of my life. As if I was like the dust swaying in the end of the world, where it gently fell, and who did I accidentally look back. If so, there will be another day when everything returns to calm, can you allow me to stay in a quiet place, plant flowers and grass, plant my old age, and live peacefully in a leaf and a Bodhi. If you can, sit in front of the Xuan window with your fingertips circling incense, and write a song of missing with a bright moon. When the wind chimes play the mystery of midnight, your heart will be like a rhinoceros at that moment, will you shiver when you are thousands of miles away? There was a slight pain in your heart for a moment. This moment has nothing to do with cold and warm, just because you deeply loved it. If I miss you, I will not find you, will you come to find me? No matter how long it is, regardless of everything, I will travel across the mountains and rivers, take a wisp of wind and thin thoughts, and carve the mark of time at the corner of the season, I will remember that you have been here in my world, leaving me the beauty of a poem to spend time with me. When reading a book, the wind blows, the long hair touches the face, gently soft as the light of the fingers, it will accidentally fall on the tip of the pen, leaving a hint of dark fragrance around the sleeves, quiet and pure, smell noisy not language. I am still used to writing words, looking through the mood of a little girl in the shallow Winter. It has nothing to do with sorrow and happiness, but only with joy. Choose a square piece of brocade to embroider the memory of love, and use plain threads to embroider the rhyme of love carefully. When the world is stable, you and I will no longer look far away from each other, it will definitely become a perfect brocade. Really, one day, this piece of plain brocade will be spread out, and a clear joy will suddenly appear in the affectionate eyes, and then it will turn plain in a flash. At that time, please don’t think that all the affectionate feelings have nowhere to be found, maybe I just read the quiet love with another attitude. At the end of November, time was always busy walking. With the pace of the season, it was neither urgent nor slow. As for some mood, it always changed in some mood. This winter has not yet completely felt the cold coming. I still sit in a thin shirt in front of the window of the South Country, reading and writing, listening to the low singing in the years. For several days, the sunshine has been warm, without the warmth of summer and the coldness of winter, just like the warmth of a city in a good day, quietly shining on my plain face, letting me wander in the feelings of writing and ink comfortably. The distance is still beautiful as always. One side of the plain paper deposits the looking of the soul, and unconsciously the mind is blooming into flowers in the wind. I thought, in what season should I write the next article about Zen, drink the melancholy of the years in the thoughts of passing mountains and water, and write to describe the deep feelings on the paper for a person, full of ethereal beauty. Maybe one day, I will walk through the empty mountain quiet temple, worship every Buddha, listen to the long and distant eulogies, and my heart will be quiet at that moment, as quiet as a pool of lake water, even if the wind blows occasionally, it will not make a pool of ripples again. Warm me with words to comfort me with duckweed wandering. Listening to a melody, you can wash away the exhaustion of your soul and purify your soul. For a long time, someone has been asking, what kind of woman I am behind the words, can you write those clear and quiet words? It is so simple that it does not need any gorgeous decoration, but it does not lose sincerity. Just because I like it, if my heart is transparent without distracting thoughts, the words will also be as pure as water. As always, I am still the woman walking in the world. I love the person I love with a simple heart, and write the words I like, which are not comparable to flowers, nor compete with the crowd, any line of Heart Whisper in the time of life. Text: Su Yan silent praise (prose editor: Jiangnan wind) spring snow elimination

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