When the oil is exhausted and the light is dry

Looking from a distance, a line of deep footprints stretched under my feet, winding. Grassland changed its appearance under my footprints, desert, sand still flowing under my footprints, mountains quietly dormant under my footprints, only that river is still flowing ruthlessly with time. On my way. I vaguely saw a ragged child picking up rags in the garbage dump. My eyes are dull and I don’t have the joy and dreams of childhood. Is that me? I vaguely saw a 14-year-old child struggling to dig a rat hole in the open field to compete with mice for food. He carried water, collected firewood, picked up coal cinder and did physical work with adults. He helped his mother support a family of eight with his immature shoulders. Was that me? I vaguely saw that a young man was far away from his hometown. He lived on a river on the grassland for more than half a year. He had a green hair and a beard over his mouth. He went to the sunrise and came back on the Sunset. The mission of everyone and little family was heavily pressed on his shoulder. He was like an old scalper on the grassland, pulling an old Lehrer, it carries lonely and desperate souls. It was the old mother’s milk tea and exhortation on the grassland that saved his hope. It was the kind prairie girl who comforted his dying soul. Was that me? I vaguely saw that he picked the light to read at night, worked hard and tried to find his lost wisdom and strength. The night came and the moon was gone, and the Dawn did not know. However, people of the same age with him have already rushed on the shortcut driven by full knowledge. He lost too much, too much, and now his efforts are too late! So, he admitted in disappointment, is that me? I also clearly saw that in the winding footprints, it was soaked with sweat, hardship, loneliness, loneliness, tears and even bright red blood, on the land of life, it is very deep and deep. Looking back, I picked myself up. When I opened my luggage, there was only a wisp of breeze and a few white hairs, and a song in autumn. The melody was lonely and desolate, the others have nothing left. The long and tortuous footprints are my only harvest. Dusk is gone, night is falling, and my lamp of life has run out of oil. I really don’t know if I can walk through this thick night. I looked at the night, figured out my little emotion and courage, and my eyes were cloudy and pale. Just when I was at a loss, she came, like the breeze in spring and the charcoal fire in winter. She gently filled my old lamp with fresh fuel, and gave me great comfort and encouragement. The Bean light was a little big, which rekindled and burst out beautiful lights. That is not a cup of oil! But a fresh blood poured into my blood vessels, which made me energetic and youthful again. Is this God works? Since then, I have new hopes, new hopes and beautiful dreams. Don’t be too much. If time will go back, I just need to live another ten years. She will hold hands with her and walk into the sunset. When I packed up my clothes and set foot on the journey again, I knew deeply that there were still mud, bumps and thorns on the road ahead, but I would continue to walk with a new attitude. On the road, there won’t be a single line of footprints, but two lines of footprints in parallel, because her spirit is accompanying me.

Zan (prose editor: prose online) Phoenix Mountain Spring Tour

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