The flowers are gone, and there is still the sound of flowers falling in my heart. One by one, one by one, gently falling in the uninhabited mountains.
When the breeze blows through the mountains, the flowers fall one after another, like colorful butterflies fluttering. They land lightly on the earth, making subtle noises that seem to tell their stories to the earth.
I stood quietly in the mountains, closed my eyes, and listened attentively to the sound of the flowers falling. It was a soft, subtle sound, as if the flowers were whispering to me. Each flower falls with a unique melody that intertwines to form a wonderful symphony.
In this tranquil mountain, I felt the power of nature and the fragility of life. The flowers, once so brilliant when they were in full bloom, are now quietly withering. Although their lives are short, they once bloomed and once brought beauty and joy to this world.
I think of my own life, like a flower in the mountains. We have left our mark in this world, and although one day we will also wither, we have had good times and have brought some change to this world.
The end of the blossoms does not mean the end, but the beginning of another. The flowers are dying to nourish the earth and prepare them for the next season. Just like our lives, every end is a new starting point, and every withering is for a better bloom.
In this mountain, I learned to listen to the sound of falling flowers and to cherish every moment. Whether it is in full bloom or withering, every moment is worth feeling and experiencing with our hearts. Let us find inner peace and strength in the sound of falling flowers, and continue to move forward to welcome the next season's flowers.