She is also the girl who likes poetry, likes the clean and simple beauty, and those unintentional questioning reveals honesty and clarity. I think, in her heart, there is a piece of sunny grass that grows luxuriantly, where there are flowers, and birds, flying over freely.
Poetry and faraway places, like flowers, blossomed from that song, in the hearts of people in the panopticon, a little bit of open, it is as beautiful as the gods that people are pursuing in their hearts, such as the stars above the dome of the sky wanting to lead to pick. It is like a beam of light that illuminates one dormant heart after another. Outside of the present, there are still poems and faraway places, it is like a cloud, riding on the beautiful expectations, riding on the desire to make people in the window of life to gaze into the distance, between the knitted brows and breath, are open and relaxed with the expectation.
The poem is intentional, and the faraway place is like a dream.
Drifting through the daily life, poetry is a small dessert for dreaming. The small scenery of the building window, the air brought by the wooden box, the small flower of the turban, the horse of the forest that walks gently on the chain ------ can all be a little sweet. Sweetness makes people fond of it, it is the hormone that draws the curve, it is the reward of a plain little life, it is a light kiss. You invite it to come, it sends its thoughts, you feel it and love it.
Poetry is round feelings, lovely, full, whatever. It hides the eyes of life, and when you look at it, it squeezes at you, and it is like the wind blowing through the emotions, and it is located in the heart, and it throws out unruly teenage talk, expressing the heart, expressing life, and expressing what it wants to say out of thin air.
It is only a few words of sound, it is rich in words, it does not say a word more, it will finish the description of the heart, it is shallow words, it will be surrounded by the room of the heart.
When you are tired of life, the words of Gu Cheng or Rumi, Simurong or Pessoa are on your bed at night, and you will be in the field of poetry, you will see every line of the poem, you will hear the poem, you will read it aloud, and you will be honored to have a layer of light in your heart.
It seems to be able to see the poet's light, along with their own inner connection with each other a little bit, the stars flickering small bright light, the mood like a mirror, followed by the light. In a corner of the sea of the heart, in a small circle of light, dancing alone.
Poetry originally had light, the person who wrote the poem had light, the person who read the poem, had light.
A life with poetry is flooded with light.
Poetry and faraway places, beyond poetry, phantom dreams of faraway places.
Far away in the distant imagination, like looking forward to each docking of the distant boat, the mind swept, is not the same scenery, and at this moment is not the same scenery. More distant horizon, light clouds floating in the unexpected blue above the grassland running shouting above the open expanse can hear their own voices, as if it is also the appearance of freedom, every scene, are printed from the eyes, the eyes patronized all the expected picture, hallucinatory blue, in the bottom of the lake through the waves of light, can see the lake it that do not know the secret, then Yu see Yu fans, the city you can not be put in peace, in a lake or a night of peace and quiet. The peace that you can't put in the city is released in a lake or a night in the sky. With nature's deep dialogue in the unconscious healing within the heart, it will be this leisurely, sigh of stolen life half a day to spare. Because of the slowdown, coveted on the far side of the light rhythm.
How long is the dream, how far is the dream, because of the sake of the far, longing is a series of thoughts between the beauty and imagination, may also be from near and far loneliness, a person alone in the field, replaced by a crowd of people in the field of a person. Want to shed the coat of the moment, in a distant place to put on a new suit, lack of daily air, love not breathe the oxygen, so the distant smoke and morning fog into the air freshener, is smoke and fog things, inevitably not easy to grab, only as a therapeutic comfort, and loneliness is just loneliness, is not limited to the location and time, space and time for the loneliness of the constraints, there is no, want to transfer the loneliness of the time and space will disillusionment.
The first time I saw this is when I was a kid.
The heart to enjoy the beauty of the scenery, and the heart to escape the difficulties of life, have to be clear to this.
Therefore, the faraway place is also a suitable place in the heart, what is the faraway place, the belonging of the heart, called the faraway place.
As far as I'm concerned, the faraway dreamland is certainly a place I'd like to go to, but the faraway place that is more worth cherishing is the future, and this future is about the self, related to myself, and also colored by the world. The real self shaped by life itself, the broader spiritual self, and the self that is repaired during the long journey, are silently expected to meet the future. The visit to the self itself is a long way to go, and the temperature of life incubates all kinds of realization about the self itself, about oneself, and about the road to the faraway place. Life tortures the proposition of life, but also hides all the subtleties of life, and every ego that has not yet been achieved is the starting point for looking into the distance, and on the road that cannot be seen to end, one goes forward, and goes to the faraway place.
The Himalayas, the Marianas Trench ------ the highest mountains, the deepest sea, the most extensive grasslands, the most extensive sky, but can not be compared to the inner self of the clear and open, the inner far, will embrace all the sense of belonging to the self, when the inner certainty, all the outside world after the shielding of the voice, and slowly understand the real self is who, slowly determine their own really want to go to what kind of far away. Since then, we have been cultivating our minds and bodies, and we have been able to communicate with ourselves and with the faraway places. The complete and open search for themselves, in the long river of time, will be more and more warm, the precipitation of the temperature of the self, slowly send love in the endless far away, hope in the heart of the future.
For me, the faraway place is not only the heart of the world, but also the long way to view oneself.
Poetry is a resting place for the heart to stay, and the faraway place is the road that the heart keeps walking, poetry and the faraway place, always in their hearts.
Life on the road, what is your poetry and far away, my poetry and far away?
Outside the text of the heart
"Life is more than just the metropolis in front of us, there are poems and faraway fields -------"
The first time I heard Xu Wei sing this song, the heart retorted, how could mom say such a thing!
Gao Xiaosong wrote his mother sitting in front of the door, humming flowers and teenagers ------- At that time, I felt a very sense of contradiction, and my heart has been retorting retort retort retort ------
Later, I realized that this is Gao Xiaosong wrote, as a high knowledge of the Gao mother, will be humming flowers and teenagers, and go out of the door, he said, "There is more to life than what is in front of you, there is poetry and faraway fields. There are poems and faraway places ------", not surprising at all.
It's not surprising that Gao's mom would mention poetry and faraway places!
It's not right that my mom would mention it. My mom would just say, "I'll make you some chicken for dinner when I get home.
Yeah, it's different, suddenly, it's like, it's just meaningful.
Well, suddenly felt, interesting ~
The origin of writing this article, because of what Weiwei said to me, to say, quite thankful to her.
December 31, 2017, I and my very favorite schoolmate at Zhengjia ate, watched a movie, is considered to be together across the New Year, a bit of emotion, piggybacking on a sentence, as a souvenir.
The small painting, which was drawn before Christmas, seems quite appropriate with this article. (Must be self-congratulatory)