中秋写怀
中秋 preceding the scene of shared moments through the year, yet still hidden within the pages of a calendar. When you're face-to-face with the same spirit that's been walking away for so long, your words emerge before you, a mirror reflecting the weight of their silence and their absence.
湿漉漉's words are now etched into a paper that hasn't been opened yet. They've been submerged in the faint glow of dust-streaked诗句, a reflection of the world's endless night. Your presence is now found within the shadows, among the soft notes that whisper to your heart like distant echoes. The wind carries the weight away, with its own rhythm, of time and space, as it shapes your memory into something you hold in hands, a thing that feels both broken and whole.
Yet, when I look at this中秋, I see more than just the fragments of shared lives—more than just the threads we've woven through years. There's a weight of silence beneath every word, a depth that cannot be measured, a sense that time is bending and fading in its own way. Yet it also feels so connected to us, as though the world is holding us still, waiting for us to come back with new answers.
It's like a symphony, of quiet moments and endless notes, yet we all know that no two can sing the same melody. Yet I find myself in this scene, caught between the hope that something will change, the fear that it'll never be enough—something so fragile and delicate, a thing that feels both alive and dead at the same time.
(一)
秋叶飘逸的时刻，你已远去。
烟灰般的牵念，在风生水起的流转间沉睡。我悄悄地折下一缕薄凉的轻雾，将思绪揉散，坠落至空中的那一片乌云。
为我找到了一条通往那魂萦缀的路：与一魂飘渺的残灵一同伴你而行
为我找到了一曲与你如约而至的悲泣呼唤
遥对天涯，脉脉的流水，与天堑的一处残灵...
晓风明月，映着等待的容颜，都已悄然变得瘦弱起来。
岸的月影，将寒烟轻轻拖入荒原，而天边那一抹淡淡的青色，则将一帘宵梦搓碎于烟雨之中。
(二)
中秋的夜，萌动着淡淡的香
揣一朵梦里的云彩送给幽冥的远方。
快为我填一首千钟醉吧
你看，渴望千年的天真正走在来时的路上
涟漪的波光柔绵着藤蔓青苔的墙
静夜的刹那，激昂了两个精灵的心房
腾起的风儿在喃喃自语，交换吗？交换吗
(三)
中秋的夜，萌动着淡淡的香
揣一朵梦里的云彩送给幽冥的远方。
快为我填一首千钟醉吧
你看，渴望千年的天真正走在来时的路上
涟漪的波光柔绵着藤蔓青苔的墙
静夜的刹那，激昂了两个精灵的心房
腾起的风儿在喃喃自语，交换吗？交换吗
(三)
