I stood on the basalt of the Fox Hall and stared at the sky. The wind and clouds were folded, and the mountains were wrinkled. It was once the place where the phoenix nirvana was made, and the gluttony made smoke. The forest buried all the warmth in my heart.
What cannot be forgotten is the flames blown by the wind that season, and the blue sky that left me cannot be forgotten.
In the gorgeous feast of sunshine, my whirling youth is everywhere