faith

Do you smell the flowers? Maybe not. But it must be open.

In a valley, in a stone crevice, there is a flower path that has opened and fallen.

I am so sure, because I am the flower in this spring. Do you know me? Have you ever smelled my heart in the wind? Can you give me a name?

do you know? I am open on a small cliff.

With the wind and the wind blowing through my body, I saw this clear sky, rolling clouds. I want to rise with the wind and fly to an unknown world.

However, when the wind stopped, I felt the infinite emptiness. The earth that the delicate roots are entangled is what I love, but it is also my bondage.

Helpless.

The last trace of daylight was exhausted by the horizon. The night covered my body like a cold tide. This darkness is so long and boundless. It seems that the breath of spring in the daytime is my hallucination. Until that daylight shattered the sky, gently touch my leaves and caress my broken limbs.

It’s spring. This breath.

I heard the sound of the foot on the leaves. There is also human breathing. Very light and very shallow. With a kind of awe and piety.

This piety is not for the yellow dust of this sky, not for me. I know that it is spring. It is awe of beauty.

somebody is coming. I am so proud. As if he admired me.

And I am so clear. The most beautiful thing about my flowers is yesterday, and today it has been lost.

I saw his eyes with the same spirituality as the poet, and the flowing spring water flowing in the scorpion; I saw his hands long and delicate, smart and energetic. That is the hand of a pair of painters.

I smiled bitterly and stretched out my body.

Is it to struggle to let him see?

Is it not willing to be so unnoticed forever?

Is it ignorant to think that you still have a chance?

Do not. Trust me. my friend. It is faith.

Why should I drive on this cliff? This is not the point. I don't care anymore. Why no one cares about my beauty? I do not care anymore. I only care about my beliefs.

My flowers bloom for myself. I am just for myself. Why should I bloom the flowers that nobody cares about?

Yes, it is for myself not to regret.

I am a flower, bloom is my mission, and it is my belief.

The young painter took out the drawing board. I smiled. I know that he is not painting me. I still smiled.

He finished painting. What surprised me was that he did not take the picture away, but removed the paper from the drawing board, carefully looked at it and smiled and painted it in the wind. I saw it when the picture flew over my eyes.

He actually painted my broken body, my dying flower. In the lower right corner he wrote: Faith.

I smiled arrogantly. I have forgotten that he has the eyes of a pair of poets. The only person in the world who can see our souls.

he's gone. I saw his disabled right leg. He suddenly turned and shouted at me: "Thank you--" The voice was brought to the sky by the wind, and it continued to reverberate on this cliff.

I gave him faith. What he didn't know was that he, stitching my faith to my soul, made me so determined.

The third middle school of Qinghe County, Qinghe County, Xingtai, Hebei Province: Wang Xiaoqi