The heart is dust-free and as calm as Zen.

But I have no mind, and there is no Zen. Wherever the eyes see, the heart sees. Look at the flowers, the flowers are the heart; look at the clouds, the clouds are the heart; look at the water, the water is the heart; read you, you are the heart. The wind blows through the heart of the flower, and the wind will remember the fragrance of the flower; the clouds fly across the sky, and the clouds will understand the sky's thoughts; the water flows through the stones, and the water will take away the lingering of the stones.

Who said that he is just a pebble in a deep stream of still water, and that he has survived the waves for thousands of years without getting hurt? Who said that he was as blue as the sky, and that he was still innocent after hundreds of millions of kalpas? That’s me.

The heart is as calm as water, and the lotus is in the sky. Things in the world are like clouds without roots, and the eternity of love cannot be found. In fact, a moment is eternity, and life is just a flower blooming, falling in love, getting drunk, lost, and confused.

I am a person who doesn’t like nostalgia. Although the past is beautiful and youth is charming, they are like the quiet moon on the hill, distant and cold. The love of the past, like an ancient village, has to be found in Tang poetry and Song poetry. Across the mountains from the rain and mist, there are a few looming thatched eaves, playing chess pieces leisurely, wearing bamboo sticks and mango shoes, or reading at night with the light on, red sleeves adding fragrance, but they are all It is no longer just in this mountain, and the cloud depths are far away and misty.

Walking on the edge of time is always half sea water and half fire; half bright and half sad. The snow is burning quietly. The flames solidified into snow and ice. People say that butterflies cannot cross the ocean. That butterfly flapping its wings in the Mississippi River or the Amazon jungle will cause a crazy tsunami in the Indian Ocean with just a slight flap. Love is like wine, lovesickness is like poison, words are like addiction, you can quit and become addicted again and again. Like those beautiful flowers. I know that flowering is a road of no return, but I try my best to bloom until the flower blooms.