From childhood, ignorance and youthfulness, to finally growing up, before it was the drizzle knocking on the window, cool and translucent, and then the night fell, merging the illusion into a beautiful dream, whether the dream was him or me, the past or the present...
What the ears hear is not false, and what the eyes see is false. Everything inside and outside the dream is hidden in the dripping rain of the past. The rain keeps falling, and everything inside and outside the dream keeps breaking and disappearing. After each drop of rain shatters, the smoke-like soul scatters into the void, unable to find its way back.
Then, the thick cloud carrying the heavy dream dissipated, and the dream disappeared.
I will be here, waiting for the sky to fall and the burning light lingering around you.