Poetry and Zen do not necessarily have to be told through stories. Quiet, emptiness, the four seasons. If no one comes, no one leaves, and our hearts are not disturbed and disturbed, is this beautiful scenery worthy of existence?
In the spring, the tears of the teenager were too pure, so I gave birth to memories that did not exist, and felt that I had also cried out for unintentional injuries. The little stone on the small animal used to hurt his heart, but after many years he punished himself again for forgiveness.
In summer, starting from love and affection, to shy skin, to unquenchable passion, how many beautiful lusts are in the green mountains and clear waters, the old man allows him to experience the happiness of the world, but he can't persuade him to give up his lingering hatred.
Don’t you understand the impermanence of the world? When the old man spoke calmly, I felt that I was a real listener. I am willing to live more softly, because one day I or you will suddenly feel the inner anxiety, how much can those latent emotions withstand the turmoil of the world? When he returns, the knife that carries sin comes from persistent love. Perseverance means that everything is too permanent. The maple leaves are red, and the aging ones are aging, how can love remain the same as before.
Later, in winter, the lake was frozen, and the old man's tired eyes lifted feebly. He put all the deep meanings of Buddhism in his life and into the heart of this innocent young man. He cut off the branches and put them on the small boat, slowly burning himself, bidding farewell to the world in the clear ice water. There is no need to remember, cry and laugh, the practice of this life has been very long.
When he came back and saw the window paper torn by the wind, he knew the old man's message. Carve out the Buddha statue from the ice between the rocks and put the old man's relic in front of his forehead. Whether a person still has the courage to his own past alone, if he has practiced with determination, is he even more unmoved. It was only after the gains and losses that I began to take on this Zen enlightenment.
The purple headscarf covering the face of the woman who fell into the ice looked like the color of weeping. Will that innocent child also endure the warmth and sorrow of the four seasons?
In his childhood, he liked to climb to the top of the mountain and look at the small temple-waiting quietly in the lake, the clouds on the mountain gradually disappeared. He left and then came back, dragging the stone of the materialized heart, and looking into the distance again, just like looking back at his life, returning to fate in the alternation of the four seasons.
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