Flowers bloom, flowers fly, flowers fall

Flower bloom, flower fly, flower fall may be a flower's life. I love flowers, love her momentary splendor; love her fragrance far away and clear; love her unquestionable. Beautiful things are always loved by people. I love her, but she is so delicate, seems to be close to her is a kind of harm, can only quietly watch and enjoy. A kind of want to get and afraid of losing the feeling comes along, perhaps choose to forget seems to be a good choice, but so beautiful things but how can people forget.

? Blossom, a flower quietly waiting for the moment she opens. She hears the cry of the wind, the murmur of the rain, and the whisper of the soil. Sunshine on her body, she greedily inhaled the warmth of this, she longed for the moment of opening, but will not go in a hurry, she saved all the strength, just for the beauty of the moment, only to pay the beauty of this life without regret. Buddha said "a flower a world, a leaf a Bodhi". I think this flower in the world in the end what is it like. If possible, I would like to be in such a world, with the flower as the ground, with the pistil as the bed, with the powder as the food, with the dew as the meal. A flower is all that matters.

? Flowers fly, a flower open moment is the most beautiful fragrance, but beautiful things are always short-lived, no matter how you care, she will always pass away. All the beautiful stay in the flowers of that time, this is also their mission, the end of the time, can only be a piece of the sky in the dance. I have seen the animation of the enchanted fallen leaves, can be two pieces like butterfly wings fly freely. I think, two petals may be the same can fly! If the petals of a flower can flap their wings, what else in the world is more beautiful than this. Perhaps I will fantasize about having a pair of petal-like wings, can soar in the blue sky and white clouds, driving a gust of wind and a burst of flowers.

? Flowers fall, when every petal falls, perhaps it is the collapse of a world. Each petal has her own home, landing roots, perhaps this is a kind of stability, no longer floating, no longer desperately to beautiful. People see only her broken and broken, a kind of sigh, a kind of heartache, a kind of let people can not help but pity. When everything returns to calm, who does not know that these once so beautiful flowers have passed away. That once a moment of sky flying, a flower floating down the speed, even time has slowed down.

? Flowers bloom, flowers fly, flowers fall