Prose about returning and looking forward to departure to pray

Inscription: The snow and mist from the sky obscured your return journey. In the dark night, I touched your journey through wind and rain. The rippling smile comes from - there is still one day before you come back.

The lingering clouds at dusk caress your departure. In the lonely morning, I understand your no regrets. The falling tears come from - there is only one day left before you return to Zhejiang.

I am paranoid, expressing with laughter and tears——

The End of the World

The Cape of the Sea

At this moment, I am no longer lonely

(1) There is still one day until you come back

The snow on Tianjie falls in the glory of the years, and the abrupt branches change noisily in the bleak north wind. The eternal silence that rang in a few places reminded people of returning from a foreign land, and in the dark corrosion, I heard a long-lost familiarity. Perhaps, the current father and mother are already on their way back home! Living in an era filled with gunpowder, facing a bleak reality full of darkness, everyone must have enough courage to cope with the ever-changing madness, and must also have sufficient ability to fill a place that is no longer suitable for the past generation. of blank. It’s like ferrying my memory back to Jiankang, where the weather was burning for ten days. At that time, my father was still looking for a secret path to book tickets online, but now he has already boarded the train returning north. I don’t know if this is my father’s ability. The improvement is still the irony of life. Although the ever-changing E era has indeed provided us with unprecedented convenience, the miraculous effects of this approach have only been fermented locally. For people of the same age as my father and mother, this earth-shaking change always gives them the ferociousness of an Shura dojo. I can't understand the pain that my father and mother feel outside. Perhaps, as one of my father's poems said, "The pain of stone is always in the silence of stone." However, the reason why the pain in the world is born in the silent death is that for most people, it is due to the vicissitudes of the world that have never promised a space, and for parents, it is because of the end of the "silver pole" - their son who cannot let go for a long time.

Father, do you still remember the great chapter "To the Children" in "The Swimming Ark"? As stupid as I am, I have only discovered my father's secret until now. I woke up from the beautiful dream yesterday! Really woke up! However, without a quiet morning, without the fragrance of a cup of bean juice, the dream that was awakened by surprise has long faded away from the beauty in the fantasy, and the only thing left is the desolation of the troubled world. Remember, when you were in middle school, in order to let your family live a little more dignity in this humble society, you started to pack your luggage. However, no one expected that you would have been carrying this luggage for ten years! You said: "When a bird leaves its nest and flies high, it is not a betrayal of its hometown." In fact, everyone knows your difficulties, and this is certainly not a betrayal! This is a kind of worshipful loyalty! It's a pity that now I know how to study your poems calmly. Your poems are like your people, silent and strong, skipping the prosperity of Lu Li, leaving only the throbbing of a lifetime. "Red Sailing Boat", "Bleeding Spring", "Spiritual Dialogue", and "Swimming Ark" are four collections of poems you published year after year. While my hometown is eagerly looking forward to your return, I always peek at the treasures in it in the waning time. To be honest, I really like the poem you wrote about missing your hometown, "Cast the specimens of wind and rain / into flowers / Let "My mother in my hometown saw: Spring", even though you are already comfortable using the Internet, I can always see you constantly writing letters in the most original way, and I can even see your grandmother holding your book. The pride of showing off to others. Perhaps, when you are traveling in the sea of ??books, you have not discovered that there is always a nostalgia for your hometown in each of your books. For this reason, when I read your poems at each stage, I can touch the love on your forehead. The twists and turns of "Wrinkles" of different shades, "the staff of life/the sound of sound/the depth of years", accuse God. Being sensitive, I not only suspect that this is - the depth of years!

I’m used to the habit of browsing your space every time I go online, and I’m used to the habit of sharing my articles with you every time. Do you still remember the article "He and His Father" I wrote when I was a freshman? I believe you must remember! My mother told me, "You have read that article three times, and every time you read it, your eyes always fill with tears." However, just as I couldn't help but couldn't help myself when I was drinking with my classmates, "I don't need to look for idols in the outside world at all, because my biggest idol is my father." Now that I am walking, I know that in the world of poetry, there is a "Cai Sanxing" that is comparable to Shaou's "Sha Baxing"; now that I am walking with obsession, I know that in the world of lyrics and ballads, your lyrics are frequently posted on the Internet Winning bid. But no one knows you are my father! Occasionally, as a son, I feel very ashamed, thinking that the twenty-one years of doing nothing are indeed very different from your aura. However, you will definitely say: "Actually, you have done a good job now, and I am very satisfied!" At this moment, your tolerance, your knowledge, and your words are lingering in my mind. However, you may not know that I The real reason why I admire you. Is it the peak of poetry? Is it the fame of the lyrics? Everything external is just a matter of your success. In my eyes, what I admire most forever is your persistence - your persistence in literature for twenty-five years. You never expected that your son would burst into tears when his grandfather told you that you read books at night at the construction site when you were young; you never expected that now I would once again recall the shame of your haggard back in the early morning.

However, what everyone cannot understand is that you are just a middle school student who has not finished junior high school. Because of this, in college, I kept speculating on the results of changing places with you. If economic conditions allowed, and if everything could go back to where it started, I think you would do better than me now! However, the past can no longer be assumed, and the past cannot be changed. You have given me a back image of hard work. I know that by following your footsteps, I will definitely find my own dawn.

Mother, you are the "person" in my father's poems, a hard-working person who has engraved his father's crying gesture in the spring of his heart. You also had the same difficulties as your father when you left your hometown. However, your father did not like to express his feelings vividly, but you used tears to explain the kindness of letting go when you left me for the first time. "Bang", I know, this is not Tears, but a sonorous maternal love that cannot be expressed in words! Have you read "The Wife" that your father wrote to you? "Life is like a mad dog that often chases and bites you until you sob in the middle of the night." Literature, the "lover" whom the "poetry addict"'s father admires all his life, often leaves you bruised and bruised. However, you have never complained at all. In this world, writing is a luxury product because the poor class cannot support her romantic warmth; at the same time, writing is also a defective product because she will not give her "lover" any material benefits. Not only that, but also That person's family will be implicated. However, if your father really gives up, you will definitely ask him: "Why don't you write anymore?" Ordinary people like me gradually realize that my mother's love is as deep as the sea. In place of noble maternal love, only a heart full of gratitude and a commitment to self-improvement can live up to this "unconditional" love!

From Jining to Jiujiang, from Nanchang to Hangzhou, you said to me with a smile: "Following your father, we have visited all the places that we have not visited in the past thirty years!" Mother, you are so cute! Mother, you are so kind! Travel, a light and gentle word, made me feel extremely heavy in an instant. In order for me to spend money without any scruples, and to make my father feel spiritual comfort, you chose travel to explain your happiness. It’s just that this kind of “travel” is really extremely painful! The Ten Scenes of the West Lake, the Lotuses in Quyuan, the Millennium Song Dynasty City, and the Leifeng Temple of the Yue Temple... My first summer vacation in college will always be remembered in my life: This is the place I have visited the most in twenty years! However, I have never been able to muster the courage to ask about the "wasted money" spent on that short vacation, because of my shame and my incompetence. You can't imagine the shock when you and your father told me "Thunderbolt" easily - for your arrival, we prepared 5,000 yuan, but we didn't expect to spend so little! The four digits are the funds you used your blood and sweat to accumulate for my happiness. However, as an unfilial son, how can you be worthy of your efforts?

Although life is riddled with problems, I am separated from you, but I feel an incomparable happiness. My parents drank the water of the Yangtze River in the south, and my son drank the water of the Yellow River alone in the north. The vast distance between the north and the south puts us in two places. However, whenever we look at the jade plate in the sky together, I feel that you have never left. I always believe in "The Spring of Crying Blood" written by my father, "Every flower contains a spring of crying blood", and the other shore "winds on the road of autumn". My father and mother have already chewed the words "spring." "Four golden fruits of summer, autumn and winter", and this day has already waved to me. However, at this moment, I am counting silently, "twenty-four hours, twelve hours, six hours, three hours, one hour... "

(2) There is only one day left before you return to Zhejiang.

Perhaps, since you returned, you have been alone in the deep and deep, unable to meditate and see through the transformation into eternity. The clarified years indulge in the cruelty of the wilderness, the lightness of lead is immersed in the sallow Ni Pan, and the surging thoughts are indulged in the midnight music. The gentle Zheng Ming plays a song of gathering, dispersion and subversion, regardless of the fragrant Lingxin. Regarding the thorns of the wind and frost, I can never let go of the offshore drifting at my fingertips. However, the astonishment of abandoning the fantasy gives the boring chaos a dull warmth, the end point, the chaos: gorgeous embellishments break the flow of water. The wind and mist of the wilderness are fading away!

Hangzhou, the rusty glory of Jiankang in the Southern Song Dynasty, the capital surrounded by the golden armies and iron horses of the four Zhongxing generals, is Yue Pengju’s Liquan gun still the same as before? Sharp? Is Han Shizhong still flying Huang Tiandang's triumphant song in the sound of Liang Hongyu's drums? Now, the prosperity is awakening and the majesty is like a haze. Look! The huge pain is dancing all over the place, and the rolling wheels are crushing the moans of outsiders. A corner filled with Deng Tong's glorious cauldron, chaotic drumbeats, have gradually forgotten how much of the mortal world is leaning on the building to pray; a field filled with hatred falls into the sky, and the mist of defeat has gradually become somewhat sparse and hazy. In an instant, I couldn't choose between gratitude and sadness. If there hadn't been a lonely pause, you would no longer know whether you were close or far away from me, and the peaceful fleeting years would have been filled with chaos. If it were not for the ruggedness of the decline, the shadow of the moon would not be able to extinguish a long longing, and the ups and downs one after another would never be able to connect the memories that will be remembered in this life.

It's a pity that the illusion of clouds cannot replace the imperfections of reality. The sonorous sound that falls to the ground echoes the melancholy, and the clusters of souls: the destined origins are always dented in the crushing along the way!

At the end of the year, Ling Xi carves the most beautiful image of life. Touching the knotted or unsolidified scars is not heartbreaking, but warm and long. The day I first arrived was like a story that happened yesterday. You and I exchanged the impressions of our encounters over the year. The impressions are so clear and the memories are so long. In the heavenly dimension of kowtow step by step, I feel the lyrics of my father’s lyrics. Waves of ripples galloping across the wilderness, reliving the softness of the warm spring flowers in my mother's smile. It has not resisted the rebellion of time at all, and the fragmentary ripples are still shining and even the wantonness of midnight. Looking up, the hour hand is gradually pointing towards the morning stream at dawn. "It's too late, it's time to go to bed." The soft and graceful Qinqing bids farewell to the sadness of the rain and comforts herself: the time of departure is still far away, and we still have time. time!

The charming fleeting mind realizes the whirling light, and the tingling heart questions the end of the stay. The memory is so deep that I cannot look back at every corner, but the brocade robe full of lice has turned the black hair drama in the fairy tale into a looming white hair. You said to me with a smile, "The length of darkness is gradually heading towards the end, and the dawn will stop at the end." A stack of bright red banknotes, like pupils full of bloodshot eyes, just like in a dream, I stared at my mother's tired eyes. Weeping in front of my figure; the new house standing on the bank of the spring river is still squeezing your blood and sweat. I understand that in an era of war and chaos, you are building the strongest foundation for my future! Perhaps, the heaven and the earth are ruthless. If the sky had feelings and the earth had friendship, the sky would have been desolate long ago and the earth would have become old. At this moment, I can't muster up the courage to face a ruthless self. Parting is just around the corner; parting is just around the corner.

If the memory is not yet blurred, the time you spent at home was only a mere thirteen days. In the short thirteen days, the misty dance of snow connected two years, and the long-lasting family love spanned a season. "Yu Dan* Insights from the Analects" said, "In the world, all love is for the purpose of gathering, but only the true love of parents for their children is for the purpose of separation." I have long forgotten which country I am in The truth of this motto has been practiced throughout the years. Unfortunately, this separation in different places is not our intention, but a lingering life ravaged by a ruthless era. Today, I am still trembling for my parents. My adoring mother "smiled" and said to me: "I owe you so much..." My adoring father still fights for the most dignified survival of my mother and me, and more often , I am very grateful to God for giving me this greatest gift. Here, I will work tirelessly to qualify for this gift. The reason why we are "conscientious" in the soft youth and frivolity, and the reason why we are "sparing ourselves with food and clothing" in the dreamy ivory tower is not unique and pure. It is not only because of our own dignity, but also because of the pursuit of "a share of the world". A real qualification. Once, I proudly told you, "Next semester, I will no longer need your living expenses." However, what I received was your "blame" "blame", but the "blame" was full of emotions. "It stood out so dazzlingly that gradually, the covering quilt condensed into an endless ocean. I know, this is not tears, but gratitude!

There is only one day left before you return to Zhejiang! At this moment the day after tomorrow, I hope you can sleep peacefully in the warm carriage. The rumble of the car will not wake you up in your sleep. The beautiful dreams weave a myth of Xunlan and find the legendary Garden of Eden without sadness. In my hometown where I am about to leave, I am praying alone, wishing that your dreams will draw the line between cruelty and alienation. I hope that this dream is not looking at the moon in the water, but "I have been looking for you for a thousand years, and finally my wish comes true."