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走过的行程，路过的风景，或是如暗夜里空旷寂寞的凄清，或是于日光下镊人心魄的唯美，都只是一瞬间囤积的感觉。摇曳在心里的那一刻，也仅仅是一眼间生长的华美。之后，就会如云影掠过，很少，会转回头去再度欣赏。

喜欢落幕在不同的心境深处，用语言堆砌着美丽，用清浅拙劣的笔墨，行走在所谓的文字江湖。对比之，也许花儿的心气着实不够深刻，然，每一处落笔，我说我都曾用尽了一个极致。精心的排列，点点滴滴的’着色，看文字的精灵波光摇曳的闪烁。

写过的字，如琴弦上跳跃的音符，一一的罗列在阡陌上，若水的流动。那些生成的缘由，也许早已是年深久远，无处寻觅。就如一纸红尘的眷念，途经岁月的浑荒，终会有收起的一日，束之高阁后以吻封缄。然后，会开始下一季轮回的忙碌。

生命，就是一种不断行进的过程，要躲避每一次风来雨急的暗潮汹涌，要迎合每一天晨光咋现的灿烂明媚。当时光，将所有感觉的缝隙都填满，已然没有太多闲暇的时候可以允许我们贪恋。亦是不可以由着心性就此沉浮，因为时间，不会放慢脚步停在某一处。

思绪的生长，就如一本厚重的书，关于每一个故事，每一个生动的表情，要如何做，才可以系数参悟？唯有静心的品读，不错过任何一个枝繁叶茂的细节。每一次读懂，心里就会萌生一种雀跃，是心灵最自然的一种升腾，奔忙的脚步也会因此而变得从容。

年轮交替，岁月疏离，经年的华美，在日复一日的辗转中，已然失了颜色，只是并不曾丢失了消息。温一盏茶，浸满一季暗香，放眼于三千弱水，我只取这一抹最深的韵味，足够，藏于心底，不触及，亦不会忘记。

走过薄凉，走过温暖，尽管时间没有等我。而那些曾经与之邂逅过的，即便如蜻蜓点水般的掠过心湖，即便只是云飞雪落的在心底隐晦过，只要是很用力的珍惜过，心里便也是无怨无悔。

当一切的琐碎开始蛰伏，拾一季风影，迎着新春的脚步，于黎明时分悄悄起身。也许，此刻的你还沉睡在昨夜的梦中，我已将最新的祈愿放飞。期待，下一次遇见，四目相对，若山水重逢，莫说清苦，不诉离愁，你仍旧是我眼底写不完的幸福。

The journey we have traveled, the scenery we pass by, the emptiness and loneliness of the dark night, or the beauty of the heart in the sunlight, are all just a fleeting sense of hoarding. The moment that sways in my heart is just a fleeting growth of beauty. Afterwards, it will pass like clouds and shadows, rarely turning back to appreciate it again.

I like to end up in different depths of my heart, using language to build beauty, and using simple and clumsy brushstrokes to walk in the so-called literary world. By comparison, perhaps the heart of the flower is not deep enough, but every time I write, I say I have exhausted my utmost. Carefully arranged, little by little colored, watching the flickering sprite of the text.

The written words, like the jumping notes on the strings, are listed one by one on the paths, like the flow of water. The reasons for their generation may have been ancient and nowhere to be found. Just like a piece of nostalgia from the mortal world, passing through the desolate years, there will eventually be a day when it will be put away and sealed with a kiss. Then, the busy cycle of the next season will begin.

Life is a continuous process of moving forward, avoiding the surging tides of every wind and rain, and catering to the brilliant brightness of every morning. When time fills all the gaps in our senses, there is no longer much leisure time to allow us to crave. It is also not possible to let one’s mental nature fluctuate, because time will not slow down and stop at a certain place.

The growth of thoughts is like a heavy book, about every story, every vivid expression, how to do it in order to have a coefficient of comprehension? Only through contemplative reading can we not miss any lush details. Every time I understand it, a joy arises in my heart, which is the most natural form of spiritual ascent, and the busy footsteps become calm as a result.

The alternation of growth rings, the estrangement of time, and the beauty of years have lost their color in the daily twists and turns, but they have not lost any news. Warm a cup of tea, soaked in a season of dark fragrance, looking at three thousand weak waters, I only take this touch of the deepest charm, enough, hidden in the bottom of my heart, not touched, nor forgotten.

Walking through thin coolness and warmth, even though time has not waited for me. And those who have encountered them before, even if they skim over the heart lake like dragonflies skimming the water, even if they are only clouds flying and snow falling faintly in their hearts, as long as they have cherished them with great effort, their hearts will be filled with no regrets.

When all the trivial things begin to dormant, pick up a season of wind and shadow, and quietly rise at dawn in the footsteps of the new spring. Perhaps, at this moment, you are still sleeping in the dream of last night, and I have released my latest wish. Looking forward to the next encounter, with four eyes facing each other. If mountains and rivers meet again, don’t talk about hardship, don’t talk about separation, you will still be the happiness that I can’t finish writing in my eyes.