FirstLove

How can one speak of fate, with its tangled threads of worldly ties?

Eight thousand years: jade grows old, flourishing and withering in a single night. I ask the heavens, what was the point of this life?

We first met at the doorway. I knew not when sorrow began, only remembered that moment beneath the flowers when you bowed your head.

It was only because you looked back at me once that I have thought of you morning and night.

Even through nine cycles of reincarnation, I will seek you where the lights fade into the distance.