When the world becomes a sea of flames, we can only understand the sincere desire—friendship, love, the simple and pure life of the Shire, the melodious flute on the grassland... It turns out that there are so many beauty and kindness, which are worth cherishing and guarding.
But I don't know... I have fallen deeply in this battle against the evil of the world, and I seem to be one with countless elves, human beings and other beings, willing to fill up the mud that dispels the haze for Middle-earth with my own sacrifice the road.
We see pain, death, separation and sacrifice, and the eulogy and reminiscence of the good are just moving flashbacks of endless distress. The ideals and goals of these beautiful villains, free spirits and intelligent beings, are the end of each of us' journey to Middle-earth—how pathetic, I love them, but it is their suffering that gives us a reason to tremble in our hearts, Give us meaning to look for.
Without the contrast of evil and darkness, nature and beauty will never have such a dazzling and peerless brilliance; without the oppression of danger and despair, wisdom and breadth, mind and sacrifice will never shine like the rising sun with the miraculous brilliance of the soul.
We want more suffering—more difficult journeys, more powerful obstacles, more terrible doomsday. However, nothing can fill the bone marrow-sucking emptiness when it all ends.
I admit I can't get out. I am the underdog in the real world. I'm a self-deceiving urchin. I live by looking up at the night sky of another world.
Sam ended up saying, How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?
Yeah, how could it be? I never believed that the world was a better place in the past, only when it's a cliché of every generation getting old to the young. However, I sometimes wonder, what was the world before the war more than the world today? What's missing? There must be something that made this old man so heartbroken.
But what hurts my heart now is that the world he created is like a boulder in the prehistoric era pressing down on my heart, and when I parted, it seemed to pull the boulder away suddenly, causing me to immediately lose gravity and float to nothingness like a piece of dust. Reality margin.
This unbearable lightness deprives us of the right to share our grand feelings that we take for granted—taking away suffering and tears, taking away beautiful expectations, and taking away a world of vicissitudes.
In the humility, numbness, distress and loneliness of this world, I yearn for the miracles of the next world.
A bean friend once said: Anything is better than boring and mediocre.
Countless favorites are gradually forgotten, and countless dreams and fantasies are lost in the noise that erodes the mind. However, if there is a dream that once made you cry, and still makes you cry, don't let him disappear, don't let him slip away.
We're all mortal. For many former young people who love Middle-earth, "growth" is over and "maturity" is gone. Aging and habit will become ruthless killers, strangling courage and dreams, making us unwittingly accustomed to the mundane and self-imposed shackles.
However, don't! Even if we are heartbroken between reality and reality again and again, even if we are at a loss when we face the "achievements" in the real world again and again, we must understand that in our hearts, we are all children, always growing, never growing up.
When the sea and mountains fall,
and we come to end of days.
In the dark I hear a call,
calling me there,
I'll go there,
and back again.
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