I am lucky to get it, but I am destined to lose it.
But why is it so difficult to be pure? Maybe I'm not good enough, maybe we're not destined enough, maybe I'm not brave enough, there are too many possibilities. You are not my pure after all. I may not be able to find purity even if I am extremely poor. For me, it is such a luxury, such a longing, but in the end it is a dream that is beyond the reach of the mirror. The stolen warmth must be returned eventually, no matter how long it lasts. Since it's not mine, I'll let it go. It's not that I don't miss it, it's that I can't. How long can the warmth from charity be retained? You cannot touch it, think about it, cannot afford it, and cannot keep it. Just like drinking poison to quench thirst, after the glitz and glamour, only the biting cold remains. If you want to forget, you can't forget. If you want to stay, you can't keep it. If you continue to be obsessed with it, you will eventually become unbearable. It would rather be broken jade than complete tiles.
The uneasiness of being abandoned cannot be healed even with multiple comforts. Who is whose salvation? It would be better to sink to the bottom and cry alone.