Chapter 723: Her splendor and fragrance

Her splendor and fragrance

March 1: Her splendor and fragrance

March, the spring wind had already swept the withered branches and fallen leaves into the gullies; March, I was still walking on the road; March, the river flowed even faster; March, some flowers were blooming while others had already withered; March, I no longer thought life was empty, for her content was rich and substantial, also fragrant and splendid.

Yet where are her richness and splendor, her fragrance and splendor?

Why do flowers wither? Why do they bloom again? It is not because she fears wind and rain, but because she loves the earth, so she withers; flowers bloom again because she loves the sunshine, cherishing those who admire her in the light, so flowers wither and bloom again.

Flowers have a day to re‑bloom; people never regain their youth.

"Why think about these meaningless questions?"

March, I walked along the road, thinking about these meaningless questions.

Although my steps are weary, I still walk my own path.

March, my eyes fixed on the horizon, the bright sun again set behind the mountains. When the sun set behind the mountains, I had finished a day's work; when the sun set behind the mountains, I hoped that past times would return, and that the withered, colorful, fragrant flowers could bloom again; although my days of admiring flowers and the moon are long gone; still I wish to adorn life with flower‑like things, to decorate life; for my youthful eyes are still awake, and the hope in my heart remains beautiful.

"Is that so, great time?"

The night is silent, time is also silent, and the stars in the sky keep their silence.

March, as I contemplated these words, much time passed again. I am neither a sage nor a fool; I think about life on one hand and bless it on the other. I feel like a candle, constantly burning myself to light others. Friend, please draw near to me, draw near to this light. Although my light is only a little, I believe my light is beautiful and warm. For I believe everything in life is beautiful, even its flaws; for flaws give a warning, give an impetus. Of course. You have your thoughts, but I have my thoughts.

My thought, a Classic of Poetry person speaks for me: "A stubborn tree, its roots and trunk cling to the traditional soil, its branches struggle to stretch upward; my thought — — a piece of cloud drifting in the sky, afterwards it drops sweet dew, becomes a stream flowing toward the sea, then turns into mist rising toward the sky…… or a piece like March's fragrant grass, spreading in all directions; you, in its green sway, smell the fragrance of life and appreciate life's beauty, thus feeling the joy and happiness of life. My thought, each morning or evening I sift it from life's mire, retain her, discard it; of course, life also sifts me, even discarding me. My thought agrees with that: 'Besides life, there are no wealthy ones; facing life, we are all poor; besides life, there are no wealthy ones; 'If one gains the whole world but loses one's own life, what profit is there? What else can one exchange for life?'"

March, I cast aside my dreams, heeding reality's call; March, I must remember: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self‑control are all vital……