Feeling clear

It makes the gentle heartbeat tremble, evokes the memory of countless people towards the evening, and sees the end of life that has never changed.

It comforts the sorrow of the world and becomes the season for future generations to pay homage to the ancestors. It has been passed down from generation to generation in the long time river.

I am not a poet who is full of passion, can not feel the literary people who have passed away; not a survivor under the war, can not feel the grief of the blood in the Great Wall; not the old man of the coveted years, can not understand the true meaning of the long river of life. I am just young and young, with memories that can't be left behind. Whenever it is clear, remember the grief.

Going up the pitted mountainside, bypassing the curved path, the awesome grave merges with nature in that corner, and it doesn't appear to be sorrowful. The crying of the loved ones that night declared the passing of life. I have been thinking about it for eight years, but let me remember it from my childhood, as if I have re-emerged yesterday.

After burning paper, fragrant, and worshipping all the complicated things, the most happy thing is to sit in front of the sweeping tomb. Looking at the green grass twigs above: "Grandma's hair is a lot longer." Breaking the silence before, living and talking with the mother, as in previous years, asking the grandmother about the kind of fun, even if the repeated story is endless, until the sunset.

In this place, people are rarely involved, quiet and quiet, I think the grandmother is also leisurely. I feel a lot of relief in my heart. This may be psychological, but it can only be so calm. Clear and clear, I want to come to the common sense of the people who are comforting themselves.

Thousands of miles of graves, nowhere to be bleak. Regardless of words, only tears are a thousand lines.

Third day: warm