On the Sky of Life

Life is like a distant painting that gradually becomes clearer. The wheel of fate is dyed in thick ink and heavy colors, running over the canvas of fate again and again. Look at the clear and blurry dark green mountains, look at the silent flowing river like the years, look at the looming white clouds, dead and resurrected. In the clouds of life, the last bloody setting sun lingers in the dark sky, and then is reborn. The most arrogant friendship in youth, the saddest truth about life experience, love and responsibility, hatred and remorse, the intertwining of fate, blooming as gorgeously as iris in the sky of life.