The poet got lost in the countryside.
There were chirping sounds everywhere, like countless pairs of birds flapping their wings and ready to move. He opened his eyes, and there was nothing but golden and heavy wheat ears so far and deep.
He may be lonely, but he doesn't feel at a loss. Lying in such high-saturation colors, he seems full and full, with good intentions and evil thoughts clearly distinguishable.
He thought: It would be nice to live like this with transparency and fantasy.
Until he fell into a dream for no reason, and met again the young man who looked up and counted locust flowers in the shade of a locust tree, and his body was as white as if it had not yet been painted. After seeing the last day of the city, the poet began to doubt, 'Do I really exist? Does anyone know me? '
Is this weird and beautiful world like soap bubbles real?
The poet suddenly felt a moist warmth flowing across the corners of his eyes and side of his face, with a bit of the smell of spring vegetation, wrapping his tears.
The poet turned his face and saw a lamb licking his tears.
The lamb said: "I come from the place where the wheat field meets the sky."
...
The lamb nestled on the poet's chest and said: "Poet, do you know? I feel like the first time I saw you, I only saw your tears. It wasn't until you said to me, 'Thinking is human instinct,' that I discovered your eyes."
The poet didn't say anything. At noon, the poet fell asleep.
So the lamb also curled up in his arms and fell asleep.
Stop and adjust your outline.
Also, school is about to start.
Concept: The world you see is a huge metaphor. Things that are separated from your knowledge are dying every moment.