A night of light snow.
Text: Swan song. Light snow no snow.
but steamed the sea in his eyes.
The sky is full of stars.
Isn't it. There is no longer the warmth of a porridge and a meal in the bag.
Isn't it. There is no longer the comfort of Xiaozhouyang's crying.
Is it not all warm in the Buddha's Zen sound?
I groaned in the wind that had no follow-up.
Warm and astringent. Suitable for chewing only in the dark.
But the book of confusion that cannot be responded to and settled.
Repeatedly turned it out to dry in my mind.
until numb and pale.
Hold. Text: Swan song.
Sunflowers wholesale the last greenery.
A headless pole stands in the wilderness.
Facing the wind, the rain, and the faint sun.
I don't know how long this will last.
Everything is dead and silent. Ju also ashes.
Withered grass.
And how can it be interpreted.
The pole that has long been hollow and brainless.
What the hell are you holding onto?
If Van Gogh's salvation was bright golden.
So. A touch of salvation that stands even though it is withered.
Could it be that after the strong wind and rain?
The only remaining slight yang and small warmth.
About author:Lu Yunlan, female, pen name: swan song, Wen Run, from Wutai County, Xinzhou City, Shanxi Province, teacher. He loves ancient poetry and modern poetry, and has won many awards.
Note: **From Kuaishou screenshot. Thank you to the original creator for your support.