Letters have the fate of letters, just like
The writer has the destiny of the writer
Some letters were abandoned and trampled into the soil by careless feet.
Some letters were lost halfway
Some letters were recited silently over and over again, wrapped in red ribbons, held against the chest as amulets, and kept
Some letters were burned, trembling with the mourning hands in the swallowing tongue of fire.
Some letters are like separated flesh and blood
Longing to return to the master's arms
There are also letters, forever, forever, like secret pain
No postage paid
Intention: Is what you hear with your ears empty and what you see with your eyes is reality? What you see may not be the truth