A silent abandonment, giving up a friend who has been in love for a long time but has no fate, giving up something that has been invested but not gaining, giving up a certain spiritual expectation, giving up a certain thought. A sense of sadness arises, but it doesn't prevent us from starting over.

Re-listen to the music in a new time and space; Tell the story again! Because it is a natural farewell and renunciation, it is full of detachment, because of the beauty of sadness!

There was a feeling that I wanted it to be forever. It took many years to find that it had faded away. Later, I realized that what we hold in our hands is not necessarily what we really have, and what we have is not necessarily what we really engrave in our hearts!

There are so many good things and beautiful people in the world. For the beauty that we don't have, we have been pursuing hard. In order to obtain, we are busy, and what we really need and think is often not understood until after many years of flowing, and we don't even know where to end up after exhausting our lives!

The sigh of the sunset, the troubles of the flowers blooming and falling, life is unhappy! Because when we have, we may be losing, and when we give up, we may be regaining. In fact, we cannot be absolutely sure of everything. If you pay tribute to chase and have, it will be difficult to get out of the external object and then out of yourself, and the involuntary sadness and sadness of life will be even heavier!

Therefore, life needs to be sublimated into a quiet and detached spirit. People who understand know how to give up, people who are sincere know how to sacrifice, and people who are happy know how to detach! When we know that everyone we like has a good life after a few years, we will be more satisfied! "I didn't come to this world because of you, but I love this world more because of you." If I could be with you, I would walk away silently, but I still wouldn't lose my love and gratitude for this world—thank God for letting me meet you and say goodbye to you, and complete a poem created by God!" So, Enron gave up and stuck to a detachment!

No matter how the worldly life changes, no matter how the individual chooses, and no matter how important the things in our hands are, we are brave even if we escape, and we are happy to be sad and happy!

Giving up is not going backwards, just making another choice for a new goal, life is constantly pursuing, and at the same time constantly giving up. We yearn for the depths of life as usual, we are gradually giving up as usual, and gradually firm!

I will always wake up my night and open up a tomorrow without you. How far ----------- is forever

The sad light rain gently beats this spring, dripping, like the cry of a lover, moistening this piece of the sky, and also saddening the wind of this season, with a slight regret, slashing through every corner, awakening any seed sleeping in this world.

Unable to withstand the temptation of the rain, I walked in the rain, wandering quietly, thinking of the silent beauty of moisturizing things, it was difficult to hide my heart at this moment. The spring on the side of the road also bloomed early, a small yellow flower, you are next to me, I squeeze you, happily competing to open, all to compete for the love of this spring; oleander buds in the rain swaying gently, seems to be shy, dodging my gaze, bits and pieces of one here, one there, as if secretly probing, looking at me, a person who does not understand flowers, remembering a sentence: when the mountain flowers are blooming, she laughs in the bushes, but it is nothing more than that; on the gentle willow branches, the old leaves have not faded, but they are left the treetops by the new green, and return to their own land, which has always been like this, has not changed。

Looking up, this should be a bright day, but it seems so gloomy, evoking the death that has already been precipitated, this is a beautiful season, I don't want my mood to be infected with this beautiful comedy, so what I can do is to bring her the most scarce magnificence, to decorate this flowery spring day.

Because I have to remember that this spring, I came, without sorrow, so very well.

Suddenly, standing there, the coming and going of the breaking impact on me, I was like a kind of small boat, fluttering, unable to get to the shore, but still trying my best to maintain myself, not to let myself be knocked down by the wind and waves.

I like to do it casually, the shallow point is to get by, I don't want to pester anyone at ease, anything, I have a little hobby of my own, it's enough, between greed and the ink teacup, the lights are not what I want.

I want to learn to paint, it seems to be a long time planned, but vaguely a little distant, I always want to do everything I like when I am alive, at least at the moment of leaving, I will not have the slightest regret, because we all know that there are some things, to do, but the result is irretrievable, so let it be buried with yourself, I also want to learn the guitar, you can quietly play your heart, compose a song for yourself, a word, let yourself follow the music to flow happily, accompanied by Yiren all the way......

In this rainy season, I feel the most sorrow of parting, although I don't spend much time here, but I deeply like the people, things here, flowers and plants here, everything here, and I can't let go of that beautiful encounter. If I have the opportunity in the future, I still want to go back to school, to make up for those youth who have grown old with the wind, to infiltrate every land here, and to tell her that I am back.

Always hypocritically pretending to be ignorant, deceiving others, telling others about their inaction, as if begging for a trace of mercy, the funny thing is that he clearly understands but does not put into action, and let it all go down the drain, go, this damn youth with nowhere to put it, just go with the years, I don't miss it.

You say, the sky will still be clear, right?

Expect.

Flowers bloom in July

The days are counted page by page, and time passes minute by minute. The sun was awakened by the heat of a house called Summer. I got up early, and some old things climbed on the windowsill, which were hidden by the moss marks in the wind last night. The flickering light rain, drenching the wings of the dragonfly, but always drenching the amorous verses, sitting in the south-facing hut, the wind was like a burst, and the children of the neighborhood, with a clear and spiritual child's voice, knocked on a sleeping door.

In the hot summer, sitting in front of the window, watching the sun get closer and closer, the shadow is getting shorter and shorter, maybe shrinking into a point, shrinking into the round red mole in life, and even nothing can be found, the shadow is you or I am the shadow, and I will not forget it every second. Isn't it, there is also a flower blooming in the palm of your hand, slowly, unfolding the delicate flowers, and then, slowly withering under the scorching sun, so that the swan song of the flower faces the sea, surrounded by surging wings, blowing the green branches and green leaves of lifelong attachment, I warm my own journey day by day.

In July, the calendar was relentlessly opened by the wind. In July, Acacia is nowhere to be found. Not only that face, but also that person, gradually blurred. Add a little more water to the cup, put all the books in the drawer, but can't put the thoughts in the bag, some dark nights, the heart floats up with pieces of clear and extinguished, there is a slow mist hidden, behind the smile, the silence is singing: understand that when you come back, you can't confirm that the fragrant memory will always be covered with moss. The fragrance of the delicate has been driven in the spring, the train is far away, the summer is long, I have refined the iron and bronze body, counting the stars in the days, pretending to return everything to yesterday.

I always thought that life would be spent like this. I always thought that the white window lattice revealed just a plain singing. Unexpectedly, there will be such an encounter, clear eyes, sad words, dark background, everything, because of that moment. Seven-colored light is projected on the hand stretched out, slender and soft, the wind and clouds with the fingertips, blooming azure flowers, heh, time is waiting for me, waiting for me to be in the smoke and rain, and I am still wandering and waiting, waiting for you to play the melody of the mountains and flowing water in my mind.

What has been missed, what has been obtained, what has been waited, what has been lost, what is unpleasant, what is unsatisfactory, and the last moment will eventually be empty. July will finally leave. My hands were covered in dust. The petals of July fall all over the path, and the rain of July sprays freely. The streets are cold in July. Walking from one street to another, empty, I can't find the mask of the demonstration, destined to stand on your branches in a simple way, pedestrians go away, no powder, I bloom into another kind of clear soup and noodles lotus, for whom to stop, for whom to break the spirit?

In July, because of your departure, a season of spring love was lost. When the flower is blown by the wind, the flower finds its bloom, and when you leave, I find sorrow. The sun rises, the sun sets, and the night falls, and your shadow stubbornly follows, unable to find a flame that can draw you away, and which song to bury you. Hide deeply, and finally can't escape the eyes of you, why don't we sit quietly, see, introspect, penetrate the belief of time, gradually red, the wisp of fire in the sky -

The thousand-year-old moonlight gradually conjures up. In July, in the calm night, teeth and claws are dancing. Tapping on the keyboard, many words are about to come out, some sentences and some sentences, like steel needles in the text, piercing into the skin and internal organs, all the time, painful to the heart and lungs. And like some notes, blooming in the dark, the voice is sometimes high-pitched and sometimes low, perhaps, following the tunnel of time, pushing the wall of emotion open, falling into your arms, speechless all night, or even for a lifetime, will you hear the words in my heart?

In the morning light, the face in the mirror was dull, for the scorching sun, high concentration of ultraviolet rays and scorching body temperature in this July. No, it's just that there is no vivid singing, no stirring words, and no hearty harmony. The flower buds outside the wall have been renovated with a round of calendars, and the smart footsteps of the past have been stretched out by the corridor of time. The aperture that looms in the distance is very close to me. Pull in and draw closer to your blurred but clear vision. Whose head is the first to appear the simplicity of wind and frost, one or two bushes, fine and dense, but still can't get rid of the entangled heart.

The leaves fell gently beside me, fluttering. Some stories are far away, some are close. In July, Jiangnan, how much watery affection is grown. Jiangnan, it's still only summer, the flowers are upside down, the roses stretch to the center of the earth, the rain grows fiercely, the gorgeous is just words in the end, the pale back is out of sight, have you ever tried to regret it? The weather here is dense, have you ever crossed the wall nearby, to visit the roses that are quietly opening outside the door? The lips taken away last year are not your kisses? The lovers I have imagined for many years are broken one by one because of you.

In July, you stand in the wind, like a song in the years, love and flight are another concept. Love must be separated to know that it is an unforgettable heart. However, apathy is also a state of mind. You are focused, and you do not give up. In the unique scene, your bright singing voice blows by, your flowing music pours out, and the emotions that have been stored for many years, through the sound of flowers blooming, full of satisfaction and sweetness, in the night of love, slowly spread out the soft wings. I have a good understanding of words, and the lost articles converge in peace.

Flowers bloom gradually. The soul is approaching, and the water is clear. The real smiles are dense, and the realism of the language is layered on top of each other. Through the jungle of the years, the unearthly demeanor makes the flames flying for forty miles fall on the glass-like jewels, let the pink butterflies flying in the sky walk hand in hand with the breeze, and let the passion and words reveal the most primitive honesty in the nobility of the soul. The flowers bloom silently, the beauty testifies, the July sun is scorching, the holy lotus blooms in the lines of poetry, looking back brightly, and another spring blossom blooms in the faint pain