I never thought about how to teach people to appreciate and admire. I thought it was just fate that made me born so cautious, giving me a lot to think about. Whether it's meeting or parting, it always inexplicably triggers many thoughts in my heart. It turns and lingers in my mind, just like usual. Perhaps this is the reason for my foolishness, but unfortunately, I can't let go of this constant feeling in my heart. But when I think about it, if I can't let go of it, there is no remedy. Gradually, I understand some of the past, and naturally I understand the past. I no longer deliberately make it long and lingering, but I still can't get rid of this habit of overthinking. For some things I care about, I pay more attention to their details and shadows, which makes me think more and more. It makes the frost quietly appear on the window and lets the moon read so much sadness.
But this has disturbed her gentle intentions. Seeing the spring sun outside the window and the singing of the birds and the golden flowers, I suddenly realize that I don't need to think so much. It is fortunate for me to be a guest in this green world. I should be content with the ordinary and usual. At this moment, I no longer inquire as persistently as before. I often ask about the appearance of the road ahead and the distance. I wonder if it will be gentle or sad. At this moment, I can't bear to leave anymore. It is no longer a casual obsession, but a deliberate infatuation. I think that the clarity in my heart is not as lightly described as it seems. The more I walk and see, the more I understand this infatuation with intention. Whether it is the past or the present, it is so intentional.
Let it be like this, let the shadows come and go, let them come and go. It's not that I'm not allowed, but that there is no need to find out what the outcome will be. In the past, I often heard about fate, and now I often talk to fate. Perhaps this kind of thinking is somewhat helpless, but it is worthy of such a rhyme. Often, the stories that are written down are not written according to the readers' expectations. If there are any clever methods and strategies to change, then why call it the past? Why call it the future? It is not necessary to think so deeply. It is just a coincidence that I am so infatuated. It is just like this.
It is clear that the spring and moonlight in front of my eyes may only be the brightness and clarity of this moment. I don't know where it will go in the next moment, and I don't know if it will be replaced by autumn frost or winter snow in an instant. But at least at this moment, the shadows between my eyebrows and in my heart are still gentle, like "the light robe tries the first branch, the warm mist is delicate and clear. The willow eyes slowly open, and the plum gradually fills the dimness." There is no need to seek anymore, no need to search anymore.
From now on, if everything is already known at this moment, there will be no one to write about poetry and romance.
There is no need to talk about profound theories and heavenly secrets. If I don't open the curtains, where can I see the spring and moonlight?
This article is synchronized to xLog by Mix Space. The original link is https://nishikori.tech/posts/prose/2020-04-21