I always thought that what I paid would definitely be rewarded. I always felt that I was a sunflower, and I could face the sun even when I was depressed. But after the wind blows, after the rain, the big fog is still shrouded. I finally recognized myself, it turned out that I was just a small grass, and the reason why I had the care of the sun was because I was in the same coordinates of time and space. You don't see the scorching sun like fire, you are burning with pain, you don't see the rolling clouds, but you run away immediately. You are a small grass, so you are destined to live as humble as a weed. I have been sad and confused, thinking that the angel with broken wings will never return to the embrace of the sky. But the shoulders wet by the fog have the ability to reflect the sun, even a small grass has the right to look up to the dawn. isn't it? This morning, the soul imprisoned by grief gradually woke up, I looked up, the bright light outside the window was as gentle as a mother, the dazzling and not dazzling brilliance seemed to be a flowing golden spring. As soon as the wind blew, a little ripple appeared, spreading in the air, spreading... The sky was so clear, the white clouds that occasionally stood still, and the eyes showing attachment also made people relaxed and happy. Looking at this day and this place, I seem to be drunk, like a dream, I just hope that I will stay drunk and never wake up again...
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