I wear red shoes and dance in the golden palace of youth. The next piece of music is my expectation of looking back a hundred times. The wings of dreams are waving gently, and the whiteness of the wings spread wantonly in my heart. Come on, thats the prelude to running!
A pair of more beautiful crystal shoes appeared in front of everyone, shining with a faint light blue light, as pure as the water of a jade pond, as poetic as the moon in front of a mountain. Suddenly the golden palace boiled, and the next piece of music played for the glass slippers. My red dancing shoes could only retreat with scattered feathers and drizzle.
I pretended to be leisurely Walking at the bottom of the valley with orchids in full bloom, I murmured: Buddha said that looking back three hundred times in the past life only resulted in passing by in this life. Then I smiled, a little sadly.
There is no sound in this valley. They and everything around me are growing hard. The ground is covered with orchids, and wherever you look, there is no free space. I saw: orchids under the thin dead branches, orchids in the fallen loess, orchids beside the dry river bed, and orchids in the muddy caves. These colorful orchids, they seize every opportunity to grow. They may not be able to adapt to the climate outside the valley, but they bloom in full bloom at the bottom of the valley, releasing their enthusiasm in silence and tranquility. Every orchid is fragile yet tenacious. Have you not seen their figures as slender as clouds in spring? Have you not seen their petals blooming like the new sun in summer? Have you not seen them happily talking about the sorrow and sadness of autumn and the cold loneliness of winter? But the spring of the second year finally came. The orchids on the ground broke the burying of a winter and the closure of a life. They danced a blue waltz in the spring breeze, turning around and setting off layers of fine waves. Their colorful clothes were flying, and their green clothes were like brocade. A clear, colorful stream without any trace of traces jingled in the valley, and the holy water fell from the sky. Planting roots in this land creates a beautiful picture. Orchid, the spirit that looks forward to life in the valley, never misses the peach blossoms sending snowflakes, the spring breeze calls the frogs in the field, never misses the summer when the waves are golden and the lotus covers are spread crisply, never misses the slopes covered with ice and snow, and the clear water shines silver. Ice winter. She seized every opportunity she could to gain vitality. I laughed again: Maybe I am the first person to come here! I don’t know how many years this orchid has been blooming, but I finally saw her grace. In the future, more people will come here, I promise!
I looked at the red dancing shoes in my hands, and the red light was shining directly into my eyes. I put it on again, stood on tiptoes and flew freely in this valley that belonged to me and the orchids (at least for now). I looked up and seemed to see white cranes flying towards me in the distance, and I seemed to see many silhouettes in fragrant clothes. The girl was singing, and she seemed to hear another orchid emerging from the ground!
The orchids were piled up all over the ground, how could it be possible?Haggard and damaged, we can only fly in the wind
I have to change my previous wording:
Buddha said that looking back three hundred times in the past life only leads to one encounter in this life.
I figured it out, one encounter is enough, one dream is enough. But before that, like an orchid, even if no one cares about it, we must seize every spring, summer, autumn and winter when it blooms. Otherwise, your repeated evasions may cause you to miss your dreams!
