Our life cannot be without goals

Life has no goals, just like sailing without a compass.

I opened the curtains above the computer on the east side of the room, feeling that I was in a sacred theater, with a sky-blue stage in front, a cloud floating above the neighboring trees, like the big nose of Jimmy Durant, but passed After a while, the clouds gradually drifted north, and the big nose was scattered. The surrounding clouds, big, small, and little, have drifted away with it, and I don’t know where to go. It’s most natural to see the white clouds or go ahead, or to disperse.

The branches swayed in the wind, like climbing clouds, and laughing at the clouds. The tree must be thinking that it is a terrific figure that is truly and firmly rooted, and the clouds are just mischievous drops of water that only occasionally block the radiance of the sun. In fact, the tree is also a cloud, a cloud made of green leaves, and a cloud that is not moving. The tree grows, changes, and disappears, just like the sky clouds.

Am I not a cloud? A cloud with all kinds of thoughts, feelings and ambitions. I am not trying to make a mess everywhere. Do my whimsical thoughts often inadvertently become a strange cloud in front of people? When I feel the breeze of love and the warmth of mercy, isn't I like a cloud that swims toward the north?

If the clouds are like people, and people are like clouds, should we all float, feel the power of the wind, and take root here, and then be pulled up and blown away? Are we really as rock-solid as we imagined?

Let me float! I want to sing high. We are passengers in the sea. This allows us to feel the breeze together. Look for the roots of our spirit.