where does the wind come from
where does the wind come from
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Sitting in front of the window, my thoughts flooded in like a tidal wave at the moment when I was caught off guard, and the emotion of the shortness of life welled up in my heart. Looking back on the long road of life, there is a shadow in my heart, and there is more light in my life. In this difficult life, the years that have passed go back like flowing water, and what is coming is waiting for us to face it bravely.
The road of life is long and obstructed, and those who are unsatisfactory are nine times out of ten. Some people say that people in their twenties are often trapped by love, and in their thirties, they are often trapped by rights and interests. When everything disappears, you will suddenly feel that you were wrong in the past, that many things are not worth being too persistent, too hard, and it is better to live in the moment.
A lot of things need chance, and many things also need to happen naturally. Too much force is not as good as calm and natural. Everything has a cause and effect, and there are laws. Life and years flow like water, but only a short moment. The so-called life is nothing more than walking gently, trying to leave traces, proving that one has lived, loved, earnestly, fought, succeeded, and failed. If you go to the east of the river, it is not just heroes who will be washed away. Success or failure does not require us to turn our heads, because it is too difficult to turn back, and even you do not have the time and opportunity.
Turning around in the memory, our hearts become more and more peaceful, and there are fewer and fewer things that can make us unable to help ourselves and laugh. Anxiety about time often makes us fall into contemplation. For the torture and self-blame of the soul, I feel guilty for failing to live up to the good years of life, and I failed to leave more words in my memory that are worthy of meticulous aftertaste.
The geometry of life? It's been a lot of hard work. Why our memories are as dim as old photos, and why is it not only heartbreak but heartache when we recall the past. In this spring when the vegetation is recovering, the drizzle evokes my endless thoughts. I want to cry, but I can't shed tears; I want to cry, but I can't make a sound. I miss my old parents, I miss every footprint I left in the mountains when I was a child, and I miss the sound of my mother standing outside the gate calling for me to go home for dinner.
Today, my mother's stern but soft voice still lingers in my ears. Every time I remember my mother's voice, I can't help crying...
The years are so long, like the wind chimes that are dumb in the wind, swaying into a season of lovesickness. We finally can't go back, we can't go back again, there are too many joys and sorrows in life, often let us indulge in them and can't extricate ourselves, until time is getting old, the hand of time pushes us to the other side of time, covering those unruly teenage-hood.
Yes, we will eventually grow old, and a life with a story is beautiful after all, and the youth leaning against the window together quietly melts on the other side of the running water. The river of time flows silently, dividing you and me into two sides, I am on this side and you are on the other side. If I can, I'm willing to throw everything away and turn back time. But how can we go back on the same path?
In the endless thoughts, please let the hand of time gently caress the pain in our life, so as to open up a new world.
Sitting in front of the window, my thoughts flooded in like a tidal wave at the moment when I was caught off guard, and the emotion of the shortness of life welled up in my heart. Looking back on the long road of life, there is a shadow in my heart, and there is more light in my life. In this difficult life, the years that have passed go back like flowing water, and what is coming is waiting for us to face it bravely.
The road of life is long and obstructed, and those who are unsatisfactory are nine times out of ten. Some people say that people in their twenties are often trapped by love, and in their thirties, they are often trapped by rights and interests. When everything disappears, you will suddenly feel that you were wrong in the past, that many things are not worth being too persistent, too hard, and it is better to live in the moment.
A lot of things need chance, and many things also need to happen naturally. Too much force is not as good as calm and natural. Everything has a cause and effect, and there are laws. Life and years flow like water, but only a short moment. The so-called life is nothing more than walking gently, trying to leave traces, proving that one has lived, loved, earnestly, fought, succeeded, and failed. If you go to the east of the river, it is not just heroes who will be washed away. Success or failure does not require us to turn our heads, because it is too difficult to turn back, and even you do not have the time and opportunity.
Turning around in the memory, our hearts become more and more peaceful, and there are fewer and fewer things that can make us unable to help ourselves and laugh. Anxiety about time often makes us fall into contemplation. For the torture and self-blame of the soul, I feel guilty for failing to live up to the good years of life, and I failed to leave more words in my memory that are worthy of meticulous aftertaste.
The geometry of life? It's been a lot of hard work. Why our memories are as dim as old photos, and why is it not only heartbreak but heartache when we recall the past. In this spring when the vegetation is recovering, the drizzle evokes my endless thoughts. I want to cry, but I can't shed tears; I want to cry, but I can't make a sound. I miss my old parents, I miss every footprint I left in the mountains when I was a child, and I miss the sound of my mother standing outside the gate calling for me to go home for dinner.
Today, my mother's stern but soft voice still lingers in my ears. Every time I remember my mother's voice, I can't help crying...
The years are so long, like the wind chimes that are dumb in the wind, swaying into a season of lovesickness. We finally can't go back, we can't go back again, there are too many joys and sorrows in life, often let us indulge in them and can't extricate ourselves, until time is getting old, the hand of time pushes us to the other side of time, covering those unruly teenage-hood.
Yes, we will eventually grow old, and a life with a story is beautiful after all, and the youth leaning against the window together quietly melts on the other side of the running water. The river of time flows silently, dividing you and me into two sides, I am on this side and you are on the other side. If I can, I'm willing to throw everything away and turn back time. But how can we go back on the same path?
In the endless thoughts, please let the hand of time gently caress the pain in our life, so as to open up a new world.
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