Bath Fire Phoenix

My body is too heavy, my body is ridged with holes, my body is scarred, my body is numb, my body is painful, I am bound on the solid earth, I was indulged in the undercurrent of time. I can’t take off. I can’t even take off my fast feet and run to the mountain I am looking forward to or the dawn I am longing. I seemed to be covered by wounds, buried by pain, and a faint dust crying in the dark night. I was under house arrest in the cage of time, imprisoned in the hard wall, and I could not see the sweeping scenery outside the window. My scenery had been covered by the wall, my scenery has been engulfed by unfathomable wounds. I struggled hard in the undercurrent of the surging time. I couldn’t find the exit, I couldn’t see the flame, I couldn’t see the flowers, and I couldn’t see the pretty girl walking outside the window like flowers. My pain is the long-standing pain, and my despair is the huge despair when the volcano erupted. I seem to be a body guest whose soul is removed by time. I seem to be living on a lingering and painful life. I have been gently covered by the huge palm of suffering. I am the angel who suffered in hot water. But I am want to fly, but I want to get rid of the shackles, but I want to fly. I stared at the body which was no longer complete and fresh. My eyes gradually dimmed into a huge black hole. My sadness was a century of sadness, and my pain could only be tasted by me alone. I instinctively leaned out my eyes from the undercurrent of time, and my eyes which were still looking for freedom and light. I am looking for an outlet, an outlet of passionate passion. I found that my curved eyes were like electric torch. I found that my curved eyes were going through the wall and over the wall. I found that I was not willing to accept slavery and was breaking away from the gloomy prison built by disability. My injured body can crawl or cling to the Earth, but my free and unrestrained soul cannot. This is a kind of dance in the dark, and a kind of painstaking practice, just like grinding a precious sword in a forbearance decade, just like silently facing the wall for ten long spring and autumn years. I can sit at the bottom of the prison and become a prisoner of time, but I can’t be put under house arrest forever. I felt that I started a real flight. My complicated bleeding heart was like a big bird spreading its wings and flying. I passed through the undercurrent of time and the hard wall, my thoughts soar on the mountains and the blue sky. With my unbreakable spiritual wings, I struggled to fight the surging clouds and roaring thunder and lightning. I felt that I was finally flying. In the long sky of thousands of miles, on the upward journey, I found the road on the road without Road, and I found the road sign where there was no road sign. I found the unique spirituality or divinity, and I experienced the intoxication and comfort of flying. I finally broke through the heavy yoke and fence of my body. I grazed the birds of spirit, above the mountains, above the blue sky, above the great humiliation or suffering. I am destined to be the Phoenix in the fire, the Angel in suffering, and the singer dancing in the fire of purgatory. I have no choice. Only by flying this big bird of thought that has been in seclusion for a long time can I return to the paradise of freedom and unrestrained flowers. I can’t suffocate. I can’t blind my eyes to watch the light in the darkness. I must put my soul on the clouds above, so that I can temper a pair of proud wings sweeping the long wind and white clouds. I don’t want to fall, falling to the abyss of suffering and the black hole of time. I have to die, and I have to fight to death, following the rough upward Road, let the free sunshine warm my pale face again, let the long-lost sunshine pour on my transferred wound or the gap of thought. Only in this way can I regain the dignity and nobility of human beings. Only when I fly can I have the breath of soul, and I can find the charming smile of roses or lilies on the journey of spreading flowers. All the flames are flying, and all the lost passions are flying. On the top of the cliff, I found that the black wall under house arrest had collapsed; I found that the chains that bound me were melted by the soaring fire. My free and unrestrained soul is fearless and unstoppable. I made a brave leap to myself or suffering with another posture of refusing to give in. My injured body can be attached to the Earth, but my passionate soul runs to the high or deep. I saw that the feathers of time were no longer dim. I saw the feathers crowded in the corridor of time. They gave off bright jewel-like clean light, only the dead sharpshooter, to shoot down my flying wings. Before that, my unconquered soul or will had emerged into a Phoenix bathing in the flame. I can’t hide in the undercurrent of time to clean the wound sadly. I am destined to embrace with wind and rain or Thunder, in the long sky where the fire is burning, I found that the cage or hell where I was imprisoned was rapidly sinking 1550 words (the autumn disease book in was in Sanming No. 1 Hospital)

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