In the mist,

That phone call was like a secret order,

As soon as I turn around, I will be at the forefront of this season.

He washed the accumulated dust with water and fled to the civilized world.

To meet the warm fate, two beams of light emanate from the roots and illuminate them.

Illuminate the night and the green in the night.

The leaves pricked up their ears,

Buddha's breath exists in the form of rain,

Into time and space,

Into a secret flower. Maybe the Buddha knows:

There is a tacit understanding.