The sky is dim and the shadows of the sun are blurry. On the top of the mountain, the sound of the flute is melodious. The wind blows in the middle valley, causing the robes to ripple. I don't know who understands the meaning of the song. There are all kinds of things in the world, and there are all kinds of things in the world. I am wandering alone among them, just a guest. Its form roams between heaven and earth, and its soul is independent of the three realms. It is especially hard to understand why I am talking about it. But for those who comment on the image, I am afraid that only the wild ghost in the mountains can comment on it. How can I call home when I have been wandering all my life? Along the way, I wanted to know why I lived.
Intention: Only if you are worthy of your true heart