No matter how frustrated and lost, in fact, life in a hurry, leaving footprints too little too little, gone with the wind, gradually, all become the past and the future of the legend, it is not eternal. Because we are waiting, waiting for the inevitable and little hope, isn't it. Even if the world is to the end of the day, I also will not end, because I have a soul and have my support, the soul does not leave, it is I, like a moment of life, everything is destined to meet here and hold, this is called faith, is nothing but conjecture in, in the endless, futile, struggling, those lives are persistent, the final will be eternal behavior. We find it difficult to understand, because of our limited time, like a yoke, tightly holding you, from first to last, and you're ridiculous hope to find that there is no keys, and opened another legend.

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Time cannot erase what from, including those fragile lonely ash, everything is forgotten, it can be said that because of the passage of time, can not be regarded as the fault of the time. Time silent records things every moment and its movement and influence, to be stored in one corner, the forever destined to be forgotten, was all forgotten. The dust. Sometimes I even think, man alive who arrangement? Obviously I'm funny, like all people ridiculous that they had mastered all the same, in the end a dream.

The setting sun is always the biggest world's most generous this, it poured all with warm shine on this world, my everything, to be presented to, those who be strangers to each other, about the world of the living and non living. Or is it all these. Can be said to be a special destiny, so from the beginning should be understood, but always to wait until the end to reluctant acceptance in the struggle, which belongs to it I do not know who is vested in it, that is called fate...... Perhaps, in a dark hole next, a slight figure, staring at the only seems to shine where the last scarlet faint sunshine, motionless, calm, quiet, in the sunset under the baptism of each other, finally, quietly, to different, then the same destiny.

Listen to the rain. The injured people most like rain. Xixilili, therefore, understanding each other, listen to another world came the sounds of nature. At least they will think like this, then, be overcome by one's feelings, in the rain, tantalizing...... The wind, gently, but always not to ask those, only one window separates, the yearning for freedom, while the inner struggle and do not know to man...... The rain fell in the slanting roof, who, splashing a Yuhua, in full bloom, reveling in the exciting, unforgettable memories. Like those who have not lose clever, the jumping notes...... Quietly standing at the window, listening to the rain outside the window. Just, but some sense of estrangement, then in accordance with the feeling of memory. He could not help but choose, sigh with regret ah. Gently lift the heavy footsteps, back to that realm, lead a person to endless aftertastes...... Ah, still do not have the courage, to open the channel, the half open door, and then, to...... The rain xixilili, most can be fantastic, that kind of feeling can not forget, just before the clouds.

See the snow. Can only far view ah, fall, and those beautiful faint hexagonal crystal and the wind ah, translucent, but unfortunately, the hands never some coolness, but will be defiled the sacred flower. Leave a trace of a trace of water, and with the air flow, or evaporate without leaving a trace of traces, or in the warm hands suddenly froze, each singular and delicate balance. This is not what we seek? Those, harmonious, happy, always most likely to arouse yearning. Also it is, both consciously ignored, who is actually very small things. To the earth covered with snow snow seems to be most willing to do, in those cold their arms, whether treasured, those who miss the distance. The cold weather ah, always relentless blows the frozen purple face, but seems to leave a little room, in touch, and leave a little warm, took only belongs to the heavens and the earth Sen cold.