Wait.
Wait for the flowers to bloom, and then wait for the branches and leaves to be green.
Wait for the quicksand to pile up to form a tower, and wait for the thin water to gather into a stream.
I often think that waiting is a confused expectation and a prayer for the unknown. Just as when desperate situations are approaching, people will always involuntarily place their pious hope towards the ethereal nothingness.
I don't know when the flowers will bloom, nor when the grass and trees will turn green.
So I cherished a pure love, took good care of it, and worked quietly. With a heart full of piety, on the road to beauty, filled with little glimmers of waiting.
Intention: inspirational, relief