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| 2014/09/05 11:30:14瀏覽142｜回應0｜推薦0 | |
Flower dream, flower falls I don't understand the world, complicated, I do not know true and false. Create dreams in the reality, the pursuit of reality in the dream. Only desire to watching a flower alexander hera, regardless of wind and rain, listen to bloom, the voice of the flowers. Don't know is which in the early morning, which sunny afternoon, which quiet night, pale green branches grow a bud to unexpectedly, she closed her eyes, shy, also in the waiting, sleeping, and also looking forward to, like the okho with nectar, the savings on her beauty. Looked at, I could not bear to approach, it is a silent gaze, turned to leave, but don't give up, and stopped, just a few degrees, finally sat down on the grassy ground, the right hand side is the flower, don't touch, don't bother, quietly waiting for you. Then, the sun rises and fall, the leaves yellow and green, but the flower, resist cold summer, long-term growth. In the end, I also sleep... In the dream, she opened and literally blossom, no beautiful petals, no fragrance of impression, but I heard, that is a little bit of her voice, no noise, no rendering, is really the voices of flowers, it is the melody of life, is the human voice, is free, the fetters of singing. I wake up to reality, she really blossom. The wonderful, from the deepest soul voice ringing in the ear. Moved to tears, I like her, also fear of losing her. But, the flower is short. Is her life, from birth to death alexander hera, or dying from the start, even if the former, I am afraid, that life is just moment. Is doomed, is chasing after the death of, there is no retreat, loneliness is always hidden in the dark, and she was calm, don't want to stay? Even more than the beauty of a second, at the moment, but have no meaning. At the end of this life, let me accompany her. Day after day, her petals pieces fall off, like a broken shell, she also more thin, every time is fragmented, the squeal of a broken mirror, but still beautiful, broken mirror that ends it, flowers are eternal disappeared. Until the same one morning, a sunny afternoon, a quiet night, she fell in the last petal, the last call, I pick up the petals, in the palm, want to leave only a trace, stay open your hand, but found nothing. Time took away my memory, leaving only the voice of the flower bloom and fade, my world because she and had wonderful, her world, do not know to have my existence. Perhaps, she doesn't belong to here, only for some feelings can't let go, come here, suffering with beautiful, at the time of the walk, don't leave a trace disappeared alexander hera wedding. After the thousand of samsara, in a night, maybe I will dream of flower, in the dream, eyes hazy thinking about it, just remember this voice, quiet, soft, too. Beauty to the painful, in imperceptible in, is embedded into my heart, ever-present torment soothes my soul. |
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| ( 興趣嗜好｜偶像追星 ) |
