The lonely bird flies endlessly in the endless sky. It doesn't know why it flies or why it can fly. It only knows that it is born to fly high in the sky until it dies.
Is it disdainful of the cold branches on the ground, or is its true destination not in heaven and earth, but outside the blue sky?
Thinking back to those days, the sky was high and the sea was vast for you and me, forgetting that the time and space will come to an end. Flying together with two leaves, holding a branch together, in the end it was just a separation.