Chinhooi Zhenhui

On the left side is a small stream and on the right is the main road that way when i stretch out both hands i can grasp the clarity and the high speed i tend to look to the left without thinking there are extra clouds the stream never seems tired of replicating clarity siding with purity.

 Blood pressure struck by waves heartbeat high up as the reef prolongation of the sound of seawater small boat drifts beyond the boundary of the tempest empty and wide far and miles away distance of autumn picked up by the lens  we fully expressed by ambrosial azure of the paradise the rip tides inside gradually pacify.  

 Life  what does it look like many have thought about it inks and papers have been used up to describe it even now  it's difficult to explain it roundly some would say life is a flower so beautiful and fragrant but flowers are fleeting so fleeting that it makes people melancholic  some people say life is honey it's a thick flowing liquid  and you can taste the bitterness of it that makes you weep sometimes some compare life to a mountain trail it's long and winding and rugged but that's not absolute there are those who don't need to walk it i remember a poem once it likened life to a vast ocean but no one has ever thought about this in great detail that even the biggest ocean can't hold the weight that is life well i guess life is life in this vague earthly planet life is both the same and different from others so real and yet,   so unsure there is light and darkness light is the bright sun for instance and darkness filthier than the gutter there is lo...

Sometimes they're out and about on the edge of the woodland sometimes they're not in early winter they take the last few bites  of the grass that's left with their heads down a flock of sheep the horns on their heads gently harms  the skin of the earth the sheep are scrambling the marching order is a little chaotic the shepherd woman begins to yell the field of vision is not wide open i can still see the gray wolfhound staring majestically under the poplar tree that's lost its leaves  suddenly it snarls and runs towards the rattled flock suddenly the swollen formation shrinks the status quo was quickly restored and the shepherdess, the dog and the sheep began another round of silence.

 Very little sleep he gets  in recent days he doesn't always crave sleep he's just plagued by fatigue amidst the chaos of time and space no passing cars would take him away boarding a grey-green plain bus  he is relieved however the bus never stops no matter where it passes such a trite scenario really happened in his brain the anxiety was real passing through the grand canyon it was real the disconsolate passengers it was all real the bus didn't stop until he opened his eyes  and woke up by accident the other half of him getting out out of bed slowly turning on some light entering a new day of life not surprised by what was taken away from him he already believed that no matter where he was he could never get out of the destiny  of his childhood.

Standing on top of a tall building looking down on the semi dark city perhaps this is too high a sense of crisis arises cold wind blows  my hair cold from within flows  out my eyes a driving force spurring  me on times are changing fast that's the message i got from the landscape the concrete forest  is full of wild and hungry beasts i think i have to survive pointless hedonism has been abandoned it's time to act the end is either  destruction or redemption well that's matter of the future. 

A vector that runs from negative infinity to positive it strings everything from past to present if you abide by its line you can find the roots that have gone astray you can find the future that lies ahead time is a paintbrush that smudges green on the field then turns it yellow meanwhile time is a magic wand that changes everything it makes leaves marcescent it makes flowers fragrant time is a fountain it nourishes the hearts of lovers it makes their affections grow stronger and deeper  but at the same time it's also a powerful carving knife it wears down the grievances smooths the differences between people engraves all the beauty on their minds time is a touchstone it exposes those  things that only shine outwardly restores their former tones  time is a good unguent it heals all the pain and wounds leaving only happiness, wellness and hope time is the overlord of all societies it brings some down lifts some up in fact time is a merciless killer it will bury everyth...

 Listening to the wind  lapping at the water's edge dust that comes  from faraway still floating above the current exchanging some time with a few old trees we're waiting for the sun to set over the waterfall waiting for the rainbow to gather its brilliance and drown the basement  of the valley waiting for the starry eyes to gently slide into the field of dream  waiting for a native voice to shout out my nickname old laurel tree reclining by the waterside full of the chanting of cicadas and cygnets and fragrance of flowers that's brimming dilapidated storehouse must have been in disrepair for years and years watermill, dredge and pipe a hard scab of time a handful of fallen leaves at this point drift by placing a kind of ache on someone's heart.    

 A lake filled with blue autumn water it ripples  as if soaring migratory birds reflecting the countenance of colored mountains swelling with the reverie and mystique tugging  on wings of emotions curling up waves of passion layer after layer burying love at the bottom the lake filled with fragrance of autumn woods shadows of maple trees swaying of branches kisses the echoes of feelings drips of autumn notes swinging the bond of love the lake fluttering reddish longings blinking  with words of love in the depths of blue each wild cloud crosses its chest with affection skies in the distance that's the call of love merging merrily  colors like cyan and ecru.

We never forget people need to eat and sleep to be alive people need to work and learn because these are the principles of life we must keep in mind sometimes i can't forget many troubles and qualms why haven't i forgotten them  yet it's not always a good thing to let certain memories remain  too long i know many things in life that shouldn't be forgotten i also know there are things that should and must be forgotten we can only try our best to clear out the misgivings scruples that make the heart die a little  each day so our inner space can be bright and spacious again our life can have back  and reserve its vitality and exuberance.

Love is being with some person just like those green leaves can't be separated from their flowers of red like a fish can't leave the water's depth love is mutual understanding  if a treeling doesn't grow well   as we would expect it to we don't blame it, no instead, we look closer and deeper question does it get enough nutrients or is there a lack of exposure to sunlight love is tolerance on both sides just like the ocean that can contain all things in its vast and broad mind   something worth learning from we can't live without love we need to love to enrich our lives this colorful world needs to be wreathed with love may we all receive love may we all learn to love and rejoice  in being loved.

When my eyes are open everything actualizes before me when they close the outer dimension is integrated into the core of the system when eyes open life is in sight when eyes are closed the picture is still  presented in the mind when you open your eyes don't put everything you see into your heart when you close your eyes you are looking at the pure nothingness so some things are best not to appear from time to time.

Under the big tree diagonal rays of setting sun these days the store is quiet only breathing is reciprocated and twice a day in the morning and evening there's the sound of the rolling gate   you're quiet still standing before new book section listening  to the philosophical thoughts of undulating hills sweet words of water then came a few curious birds lined up at the door saying hello hungry fellas jumping here and there to collect and ingest those tiny bread crumbs from the palm of your hand.